The Faydark
by SpikeTheLobster
Summary: A hunting trip turns into something more complex... This is a short story I wrote some time ago and intended to follow-up with a more complex, political espionage tale - which hasn't happened yet.
1. Out Of The Night

1. Out of the night  
  
Dozens of slain orcs lay in a chaotic pattern around the camp site and their dying moans floated eerily across the air of the dark forest. Several among them twitched as their life blood ebbed away into the grass, feeding the unholy ground. In some places, the grass seemed to grow visibly as the liquid disappeared.  
  
"We needs to rest," muttered the dwarf, as he brought soup from the caldron hanging over the fire to the bowls of those surrounding it.  
  
"May Tunare bless you, and heal these wounds," whispered the nearby elven cleric, as blue light enveloped the body of a wounded barbarian comrade. The kilted warrior rose slowly, easing the pain from her limbs, and thanked the elf with a smile, a nod and a hand on the shoulder. The elf moved away, towards another resting friend. The Dwarf at the fire turned sharply as footsteps approached, reaching for his knife.  
  
"Joman."  
  
"Aye," replied the approaching wood elf. Garbed in leather armour, the ranger walked into the camp.  
  
"I thought I'd make enough noise so even you'd hear me, Ganth," he smiled, winking at the Dwarf. Ganth chuckled deeply, and continued serving the soup.  
  
"More orcs out there?" asked the Barbarian, as she sat to clean her sword. She was an impressive lady, easily passing six feet in height, garbed in a ringmail kilt, matching tunic and leather sleeves. The sword she cleaned was almost as tall as Ganth, forged from an unfamiliar metal: a family heirloom passed down from her father after his death. She bore the blue tattooed markings of both her clan and the protectors of her home village proudly, in contrast to her fierce red hair, cropped short and released from the helm she wore in battle.  
  
"Didn't see any for the moment, but their camp is buzzing. I think they know we're here - this scouting party should probably have been back a while ago."  
  
"Darn those scouting parties. We were getting close to their camp, too," exclaimed Ganth. "Poor Eltheria's getting tired with all this healing she's been doing. She needs to sleep some. Eltheria!"  
  
The Elf walked slowly over and accepted the bowl of soup offered. She raised it with a smile in Joman's direction.  
  
"Nice to eat some real food for once?"  
  
"Tunare provides... but I must admit this rabbit stew tastes nicer than the manna provided by the Goddess, yes," she replied. "Quite how you managed to find one in this darkness, I'll never know, but I thank you for your skill."  
  
"Just one of those sneaky ranger secrets," replied Joman, with a chuckle. "As for that camp, I spotted some kind of leader in there. He looked pretty big. From what I could see, they've called in all the remaining scouting parties, and they're waiting for someone. Damn! I wish I spoke Orc. They looked pretty excited, but I couldn't understand a word they were saying."  
  
"Nowt on track, then?" asked the barbarian.  
  
"Not at the moment. Calm down, Siobhan, there'll be more meat for your sword sooner than you think, and probably sooner than you want."  
  
"Can't be sooner'n I want, woodsman. I still got a bone to pick wi'this scum."  
  
Ganth sighed lightly. The whole party understood Siobhan's hatred: she had lost three brothers and both her parents to the orcs. Her family had moved from their home in Everfrost to set up home on the other side of the world here in the Faydark, near the elven city. When the orcs had begun pouring out of Crushbone, the whole family had signed up with the elven army to hold back the flood of evil, but Siobhan was away at that time. She'd been in Everfrost, fulfilling her family and clan duties with the warriors there. Upon her return, she had found the orcs repulsed, but her family dead. Her swords had rarely been in their scabbards since.  
  
The group sat silently for a few moments, as they ate their soup. Around them, the trees of the Lesser Faydark seemed to mutter amongst themselves, whispering at the intruders to leave. A moan attracted the group's attention.  
  
"Gueri... you alright now?"  
  
The female erudite limped into the light of the fire. Her right leg was still badly wounded and scarred from the battle with the orc scouting party, but she smiled despite the pain. She was wearing an impressive, dark red tabard marked with unusual runes and carrying a club that glowed dimly.  
  
"Better," she replied, in a strange accent. "Leg's still playing up after that spear. Thanks to Eltheria, I should be able to rest and look after myself in a bit." She accepted a bowl of soup from Ganth, who also handed her some bread.  
  
"That's the last of the bread. I figure ye deserve it. Getting skewered with a rusty spear when ye're saving someone else's life deserves a treat." The rest of the team nodded, and Gueri raised the bread in silent thanks. She broke it into pieces, and handed each person a small chunk. Each of them tried to resist, but her silent smile stilled their voices.  
  
"We're friends. We share," she said.  
  
"Any news on that husband o'yours?" asked Siobhan.  
  
"No," sighed the erudite. "I haven't heard from him in a couple of days. He said he was still stuck in High Hold, trying to find a druid friend who could open a portal for him to the Greater Faydark. The poor love's been over to Erudin in the library, trying to get hold of some new spells. He said he'd bring some fresh fish and some treats from the baker there when he arrives."  
  
"Bah, that elf is never around when ye need him," Ganth snorted.  
  
"He has his duties to the guild, and his life to lead. He's always here on important dates."  
  
"I was joshin'," replied the Dwarf, with a smirk. Gueri smiled, a knowing smile.  
  
"Wait up!" said Joman, urgently. His ears had pricked up, and he turned his head form side to side. "Something's coming. it's a way off, but it sounds like three or four lots of footsteps. Darn. They couldn't have waited an hour, for daylight?"  
  
The whole group downed their soup in one swallow and reached for weapons. Joman picked up his bow, and loosened his whip. Ganth kicked some dirt over the fire as he picked up his spear and unsheathed his knife once again. Siobhan rose quickly, hefting her sword and, unsheathing a second, shorter sword, stood ready. The two clerics grabbed their weapons, and lined up behind the fighters.  
  
"Definitely more than one. I'd guess four or five, at least," said Joman. "Heavy steps, and I can hear someone chanting. Sounds like a reconnaissance group to me. Watch out for the oracle."  
  
Within a matter of moments, the orc group came into view. There were, indeed, several of them - Joman counted seven - and they were ready to fight. Carrying an assortment of weapons and growling aggressively, the larger, front orcs were followed by a smaller individual, around whom magical light played. Joman nocked an arrow.  
  
"Best hit that caster first," he said, "or he'll be healing the others."  
  
The arrow shot from Joman's bow, straight and true. As it thudded into the orc oracle, the other attackers screamed and charged towards the group. Ganth and Siobhan braced themselves for the onslaught, trying to position themselves between the enemy and their slighter friends. Joman dropped his bow and grabbed his whip and shield.  
  
"For Kaladim!" "For Tunare" "Die you ugly scum!"  
  
As the first orcs arrived, Siobhan waded into them, slashing violently at one with her huge sword, while parrying the attack of another with the smaller weapon. A huge grin spread across her face. Joman stood slightly to her left, and took the remainder of the attack, keeping his shield between him and one orc, while his whip cracked towards a second. Behind them, Ganth was moving quickly and quietly around the attacking beasts, and the two clerics began chanting.  
  
Siobhan jeered at the orcs as she fought, taunting them into a rage. Her sword cleaved down upon her target and the orc could do little to stop it. Blood streamed from the creature's shoulder as the metal connected and cut through the rough cloth it wore. A second attack came in from her shorter sword, and the orc tried to stop the blow with its club, to no avail. Beside her, two more orcs slashed at her with rusty weapons, one grazing off her armour. The second sword connected, and drew a little blood. Siobhan roared in anger, as two more assailants headed towards her. Magical lights surrounded her as Gueri finished her spell, and Siobhan felt more balanced, more solid on her feet.  
  
Joman was fighting the last two orcs just beside her. His blows were less skilled, but he fought with a grace the barbarian could not match. His whip slashed out and connected with an orc's face, opening a wide gash down the cheek. The beast screamed and thrust its spear at the ranger, who tried to block it with his small wooden shield. to no avail. The spear stuck into his side, and he stepped back a pace, grimacing at the pain. The second orc took advantage and dived in with its knife. The blade cut deep into Jomen's shoulder, opening an old wound as it sliced through his armour.  
  
The orc oracle began chanting again, waving its hands in a bizarre fashion, as green lights began to form around it. Eltheria yelled a warning to the others, as she began chanting herself. Unable to pass the orcs in front of her, Siobhan launched a furious attack on the creature she had so recently wounded and landed a kick to its stomach. Winded, the orc doubled over, and Siobhan brought both her weapons down onto its back. The orc crumpled, as if a giant foot had stepped on it. Its brethren renewed their shouts and their efforts, hacking at the tall barbarian wildly. Several blows landed, and Siobhan grunted under their weight.  
  
As the oracle reached the end of its chant, it suddenly stopped. With a look of surprise on its face, it reeled about, blood pouring from two huge wounds on its back. Behind it stood Ganth, spear and dagger raised, a look of contempt on his face. The rogue had surprised the creature completely and not only stopped its casting, but opened a long, wide wound all the way down its back. He laughed loudly and jabbed again with his spear, as the orc raised its own weapon to block.  
  
"Och, Ganth! Nice 'un!" shouted Siobhan, as she hacked a leg off one of the orcs attacking her. Her pleasure was short-lived, however, as her blade stuck for a moment, and the two remaining orcs both landed well-timed attacks on her. She groaned as their weapons pierced her armor, and blood began to seep from her side. Cursing the beasts, she staggered back a step and braced herself again.  
  
Joman was not fending so well, either. His shoulder wound was bleeding badly, and the two orcs he faced were pressing home their attack. He retreated slowly, as the blows rained down upon his shield. He could do little to attack them. Suddenly, red light flickered around one of the orcs as Eltheria finished his spell and the wrath of the gods struck the beast. It staggered backwards, its flesh shredding. The second ignored its fellow and pressed home the attack on the faltering wood elf.  
  
Ganth was singing. He always did this when he was faced with an enemy and wasn't sneaking around. The others didn't mind - he had a nice voice - but the content of the songs was always something bawdy and inappropriate in battle. This time, it was something about the dawn, and how it rose like barmaids' skirts. At least it was vaguely appropriate - it was near dawn now. His spear jabbed repeatedly, his knife flashed back and forth. The oracle was not, however, an easy target. Summoning a short chant, it launched a magical attack against the sturdy rogue, bruising him and pushing him back. Ganth chuckled.  
  
"That the best ye can do, eh?" he exclaimed, charging back into the fray. He moved quickly for one so stout, edging round the orc, trying to find a way to plant his dagger in its back once again.  
  
Siobhan was fading fast. With so many attackers, she had been wounded many times, and even her immense strength could not sustain her forever. Gueri had noticed, and had begun a healing incantation. Eltheria was sitting, meditating intensely. Blue light soon surrounded the tall barbarian, and she grinned a wry grin. The orcs she fought glanced at each other, and one headed off towards the erudite, as the other attacked Siobhan to keep her attention.  
  
"Not so fast, scum!" shouted the warrior. She slashed at the passing orc and connected, with her family heirloom. There was a sound like ice creaking under a great weight as the weapon connected, and the orc froze solid, then crashed to the ground.  
  
"That was fer you, pap," muttered the barbarian.  
  
Joman was now chanting. He looked very badly wounded, and the two orcs were still beating on him with a fury unexpected of such normally cowardly beasts. He tried to protect himself, risking an occasional flash of his whip at the orc on his right. Of the two, this one was weak now, but the constant battering on Joman's shield kept him from concentrating and the second, stronger orc was using the situation to its advantage. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the weaker orc stumbled forward and fell. Its compatriate looked over in astonishment, to see Gueri standing behind the fallen corpse, her club spattered with blood. She smiled at the second orc.  
  
"Hail, orc centurion," said Gueri, in mock salute, and leapt into the fray. Blue lights flashed around Joman, as Eltheria released a healing spell and Tunare's blessings fell upon the wood elf. He roared with pleasure and began whipping the orc rapidly as it flailed, unsure of who to fight.  
  
Ganth's song was in full swing now. The orc caster looked in a bad way, as a blast of Eltheria's deific wrath hit it and the dwarf slashed quickly. It began to chant again, concentrating itself on the words and ignoring the pain of its wounds. A green, sickly glow spread around it, then shot towards the dwarf. As it hit, the rogue's dagger sparkled and flashed, absorbing the incoming magic and dissipating it harmlessly. The orc looked scared, and began to run.  
  
Siobhan was mopping up her remaining attacker. Under such an intense rain of blows, the orc didn't know what to do. It tried to parry the big sword, and got hit by the little one; it dodged the little one and found itself on the end of the barbarian's boot; it ducked the boot and found her longsword coming up from below. the orc turned tail and fled.  
  
"Runners!" shouted Eltheria.  
  
Joman broke off his attack on the orc between him and Gueri. With a few well-chosen words, the grass under the running orcs' feet grew suddenly, trapping them and slowing their progress. Gueri smashed her club into the orc between her and Joman, stunning it for enough time to finish it off. Siobhan and Ganth chased gleefully after the fleeing orcs and finished them mercilessly.  
  
Dawn broke. As the friends looted the orcs' bodies, Ganth whooped with joy. The others turned in surprise, to see him holding up a small bag.  
  
"Ye're not going to believe this. he's a-carryin' some right tasty bixie meat!"  
  
The others looked at each other and laughed. Ganth's stomach was made of steel. 


	2. Fear And Loathing In Lesser Faydark

2. Fear and Loathing in Lesser Faydark  
  
"Dawn" was a relative term in the Lesser Faydark. Although the sun had risen, it had difficulty penetrating the canopy of trees, and the evil seeping from the ground seemed to resist the light. A sort of dull green haze settled on the low hills as the group gathered their equipment and extinguished their fire.  
  
The night's events had taken their toll on each of the travellers. Ganth looked weary from staying alert on watch. Joman had slept fitfully, moaning occasionally as the newly opened wound in his shoulder aggravated him despite the healing chants of his companions. Siobhan never slept well - she turned and growled in her sleep every night as troubling dreams of her dead family came to her, undoubtedly hurried into her head by the evil place they were in. The two clerics had remained up most of the night, meditating and healing their friends.  
  
"Righto, you lot," said Ganth. "It's time for us to be movin' on towards that there camp. That is, if you all still feel up to it after so many scoutin' parties last night."  
  
Siobhan shot the dwarf an angry look.  
  
"Alright, alright, biglegs. no need to get yerself in a tizzy. We'll be goin' orc huntin', never fear."  
  
"Damn right," muttered the barbarian.  
  
Joman shouldered his shield with a slight groan, picked up his pack and kicked a little more dirt over the fireplace. He looked around at the surrounding trees, seemingly adjusting himself to the different sounds of daytime wildlife. Tilting his head to one side, he spoke: "Nothing much out there, from what I can tell. Some spiders, and I can hear a fey drake fluttering around somewhere. Looks like we have a bit of a reprieve from the night assaults, at least long enough to make good time towards the encampment."  
  
"You'll be scoutin' ahee'd, I warrant?" asked Siobhan. Joman's nod was his only reply, and he was off into the trees, moving silently and swiftly.  
  
The four remaining group members hefted their packs onto their backs and kicked the dirt off their boots. They headed in the same direction as Joman, but moving slower, knowing he would return with news of anything on the route ahead. They walked silently, apart from Ganth who hummed a little tune, keeping their hands near their weapons and scanning the surrounding woods for signs of life.  
  
The group had walked for about an hour when they saw Joman coming back. He approached at a gentle jogging pace, and with a broad smile. Obviously, he had news to report.  
  
"You won't believe who I just ran into," he chuckled. "Powder!"  
  
The rest of the group all grinned: "How is the little turd?" asked Ganth, gleefully.  
  
"Oh, the same as usual," Joman replied. "He's been travelling locally looking for something for the temple in Kaladim. You know he's moving up in their circles these days - 18th Tunarian now."  
  
"I thought you looked pretty buff," Gueri commented, "and that shoulder looks much, much better."  
  
"Like a newborn," the wood elf grinned, flexing his arm. "I found the camp, too." His smile became somewhat smaller, and he fidgeted slightly in place. "It doesn't look good - they're alert and there's a lot of them around."  
  
"Och, that won't be stopping me goin' in there and slaughterin' the scum," commented Siobhan belligerently. The rest of the group looked at each other. When Joman said something was risky, he meant it, but it would be difficult to convince the barbarian to leave when they were so close.  
  
"Ah, well. let me 'ave a sneak around in there, and I'll let ye know what I think," sighed Ganth. Eltheria patted him gently on the shoulder, out of sight of Siobhan's icy regard.  
  
The next hour passed slowly for the waiting friends. They always worried when the little rogue went off on his own into an enemy camp: he was quick and quiet, but stout as he was, if he were to be discovered he'd be lucky to make it back alive. Eltheria worried the most. Born to a high-elven family of some note in Felwithe, she had been travelling with Ganth the longest. She had saved his life some months before when she met him running from goblins in the Butcherblock Mountains. Seeing just a short, muscular mass charging towards her shouting "Outta tha way there!", she had been somewhat stunned, but had noticed his wounds nonetheless. As he passed, she had healed him, and he had stopped. Together they faced the odious green monsters and had prevailed - since that day, they had become firm friends.  
  
The sound of singing reached Joman's ears first. He rose quickly, and the others followed him. Ganth was returning, and singing a happy little ditty about how the sirens in the Ocean of Tears would be prettier if they had beards. He walked back into their temporary camp and announced his news.  
  
"Eight of 'em in camp, and two magic types. The leader's some local chieftain or other, and ye'll be pleased to know he's a big brute, Siobhan. Four set lookouts on the bound'ries, two patrolling lookouts in addition. We've got our work cut out here. And I be carrying some bad news, too."  
  
The others looked worried. If that was the good news. what was the bad?  
  
"There be someone else in camp. An inky."  
  
Eltheria closed her eyes. Ganth laid his hand on her waist and spoke again: "I know, Eltheria. Ye hates it when ye sees one of the fallen. But there ain't nothing ye can do fer 'em now, and ye knows it." Eltheria nodded weakly.  
  
"Well, I suggest I go with Ganth and one of you two to clear up some of those outlying problems," said Joman, indicating the clerics. Siobhan opened her mouth to speak, but Joman continued. "Before we get to the real fighting, of course." The barbarian closed her mouth.  
  
"We'd best be waiting for darkness then?" asked Ganth.  
  
"Aye."  
  
******  
  
As night fell, the group found themselves better rested. They had camped in a spot off the common trails and hunting paths used by the creatures in the wood, and had been able to eat, sleep and relax without harassment. With darkness closing in, Ganth, Eltheria and Joman prepared themselves for a stealth attack.  
  
Leaving the camp, Joman led the way. He moved silently, quieter even than Ganth. Within minutes, the trio were within sight of the first of the guards - an ugly blue creature standing on a small hill, surveying the surrounding trees. Joman nocked an arrow as Ganth slipped away into the darkness.  
  
The orc looked surprised when the arrow hit it, landing squarely in its chest. It stood silently for a moment, considering the wooden shaft protruding from its torso, then, with a start, headed in Joman's direction. The wood elf was waiting, whip in hand, as it arrived, and blocked its initial blow. Behind the orc, Ganth appeared from the darkness and planted his knife into the beast. It let out a short scream, cut off by Joman's whip wrapping itself round the orc's throat and finishing its life.  
  
"That went well," noted Joman.  
  
The second and third sentries followed the first quietly. As the group approached the final sentry, Eltheria stopped them with a whisper. She had seen two more orcs headed in their direction, patrolling through the woods on the outskirts of the camp. Both approached the sentry and stopped to speak in the gruff orc tongue, as the trio considered their next move.  
  
"I suggest we wait for them to move away again," whispered Joman.  
  
"Aye, but what if they find the dead sentries?" asked Ganth. Eltheria nodded. Joman considered their options. As he was about to speak, one of the patrolling orcs saluted the other two and moved away. The wood elf looked at his companions meaningfully. Ganth nodded. Slipping quietly away into the trees, the trio soon dispatched the orc, and returned to the other two.  
  
"I think if I invoke the fear of the Goddess in one of them, he'll run for the other sentries," suggested Eltheria. "Since they're dead, that should give us time to deal with his friend."  
  
"Good idea," agreed Ganth. He and Joman prepared themselves as the high elf began chanting quietly. Ethereal skulls appeared in the air around the orc patroller, wailing and shrieking at it, spinning in a stomach-churning manner. The orc raises its arms and ran into the woods towards one of the sentry positions, as the second raised its weapons. It charged the trio but, outnumbered, it fell quickly. Moments later, the second orc returned, having found the sentries dead, and followed the fate of its companion.  
  
"Job done, friends. Excellent work," Joman remarked. The other two smiled slightly, pleased with their work, and the trio headed back to find the rest of their group.  
  
Siobhan was on watch as they approached, and challenged them with her thunderous voice. They hailed her and walked into the camp.  
  
"No more patrols tonight," said Ganth. Siobhan smiled, and Gueri approached to check for wounds. "It's alright, milady, no injuries this time."  
  
Grouping together, the five friends extinguished their fire and prepared themselves for the attack on the camp. The worried looks on their faces told more than their words could say - they were not sure they would all come back alive. 


	3. Gatecrashers

3. Gatecrashers  
  
Equestrielle the Corrupted raised her head, sniffing the air and snorting. The cold wind turned her breath to mist as it left her nostrils. She could smell danger in the air of the Faydark, a sense of impending violence that sent shivers through her blackened heart. Pawing the ground, she turned and headed towards her favourite watering spot, content in the knowledge that death would walk the hills of her home this night.  
  
Gueri shivered. The nights in the woods were cold, compared to her homeland of Erud, and she pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. Jomen was having trouble getting their campfire to remain alight, even with his skill as a woodsman. Of the group, only Siobhan seemed undisturbed by the chill that had settled into the air since they had dispatched the orc sentries: understandable, since her home was permanently under the cover of snow.  
  
Jomen sighed irritably and kicked dirt into the flickering fire. He turned to face the rest of the troupe.  
  
"I give up. With all the rain and this mist, we might as well move on the camp now as wait here trying to make water burn."  
  
The five friends looked at each other, the tension apparent in their eyes. They had been camped for almost an hour, trying to warm themselves before the attack - or rather, trying to raise their spirits in what now seemed a much more dangerous situation than they had expected. Ganth looked at his feet, unwilling to say anything. Eltheria remained in quiet meditation. Only Siobhan seemed anxious to attack.  
  
"Och, now is as good a time as any, lads and lassies. Them orc won't be a- goin' nowhere, and waitin' any longer'll jest give 'em time to call in more help."  
  
Jomen rose, and picked up his shield. He nodded. The others took a deep breath and all regained their feet. Silence descended.  
  
"Of all the miners I have known, ye'll be the most remem-bered," Ganth sang, quietly. "And in this world or any more, we'll ne'er be apart. I'll carry ye with me in me soul, me mind, me bones, me heart." the song trailed away into a hum, as the group gathered close to each other.  
  
It was Siobhan who broke them out of their introversion.  
  
"PAP!" she exclaimed, her voice thunderous as always. "Tonight I may die, but bear witness tae this sword, this courage and your line. Many an orc will pass before me into the underworld, afore I go!"  
  
"May Tunare bless us all," whispered Eltheria, calling magical protections onto the group.  
  
"Quellious, spare a thought in your eternal meditations, for your servant goes to battle."  
  
"May these trees, this ground watch and bear witness to the courage of this woodsman."  
  
"Ah, stuff it!" Ganth said. "Ye're all gonna make it, and me too! We'll sing 'em a song o'destruction and pain they'll never be fergettin'!" He laughed, and a huge, brown-toothed grin spread across his bearded face. The others couldn't resist the dwarf's stout humour, and all smiled and chuckled.  
  
Gathering their weapons and covering the fire, the comrades moved off into the night, towards the distant flickering lights of the orc camp.  
  
***  
  
Inside the orc chieftain's tent, a huge blue beast and a tall, slim dark elf were deep in conversation. The two guards at the tent entrance shuffled uncomfortably in the presence of the robed foreigner.  
  
"This is not just another attack by a bunch of lowly elves, you know, Chief," said the elf. "I have received word from my masters that the group coming here do so for a reason. One among them bears a terrible grudge against your people. If she knew it was you who killed her father and brothers, I fear the tall one would be unstoppable."  
  
The Chief grunted and reached for another gnomish bone. He crunched down on it, sucking out the marrow. The elf tried, but could not contain his disgust. The Chief chuckled throatily.  
  
"Dat berberrian? She not make me fraid. Chief not fraid of none of dems skinnies. We see who da strongest after dey comes in here and I crunches on dere bones."  
  
The elf sighed. How to make a stupid orc understand? It was bad enough that he had been sent here to use this senseless individual and his band of stinking underlings to further the cause of Neriak, but to put up with the megalomaniac meanderings of the tiny brain in its head was too much.  
  
"Listen, Chief. I know you do not fear them, but they are stronger than you think. They are well-equipped. They are determined." The Chief snorted, but the elf continued. "Quite apart from the barbarian woman, there is another among them who must not escape. She is tied with an enemy of Neriak, and she must be captured, or killed." The Chief snorted again. The elf rose, swiftly and threateningly.  
  
"Do not fail me, Chief. You know the consequences."  
  
The Chief stopped eating. He swallowed heavily, and with difficulty. Turning his regard slowly to the elf, he opened his mouth to speak. Seeing the iron stare of the dark elf looming over him, he thought better of it, and simply nodded. The elf turned sharply about and, with shadows gathering around him, stepped out of the tent.  
  
***  
  
Just out of the reach of the light of the camp fires, Jomen and Ganth sat watching the orcs. They had been watching the movements of the foul creatures for some time, quietly discussing how best to attack the camp without attracting the attention of the entire enemy squad. Suddenly, from the largest tent, a dark elf stepped angrily into the light of the fire. The two guards outside the structure cowered visibly at his passing, before resuming their positions. Jomen looked questioningly at the dwarf.  
  
"Well I don't know, do I?" whispered Ganth. "Looks like trouble, though."  
  
Jomen nodded in agreement. They sat for a few more minutes, waiting to see where the elf went, and were disappointed to see him enter one of the smaller tents, still in the camp. Crawling quietly backwards, the pair made their way back to their friends.  
  
"Definitely an inky in there, yop," said Ganth, as the group gathered together. "Knowing them inkies, probably a magical type, too." He sighed. "Just what we needed."  
  
"I think we should wait a short while, let them relax a little," suggested Jomen, to the nods of the others. "If we can pull a few of them away without attracting the others, we'll be fine. I think I've found a good spot. Come on, let's go. Now's as good a time to get ready as any."  
  
Jomen's spot was dangerously close to the camp, but looked well shielded from view. They waited what seemed an eternity for the guards to relax a little, then with the other four calmly preparing themselves, the wood elf set off into the light of the fires.  
  
The first arrow thudded into the arm of one of two orcs standing talking by a tent. It took a moment for the pain to reach the creature's brain, then it shrieked and turned towards Jomen. As it ran towards him, the ranger backed away, landing another arrow in the beast's leg before dropping his bow and switching to whip and shield. The orc's cries had attracted three of its fellows from the camp - reasonable odds, Jomen thought.  
  
He backed further away as the orcs continued to charge, then was joined from both sides by the rest of the group. The charging orcs didn't slow down. They crashed into the front line of the group, weapons flailing, as Eltheria shouted from behind: "By Tunare! They're all coming!"  
  
The friends looked beyond their attackers in shock - from the camp poured a veritable wave of orc warriors. In addition to the four already upon them, another four were picking up weapons. Two more were beginning to chant. Yet that wasn't the worst of it: from the large tent came the Chief, towering over his underlings, and behind him from a smaller tent stepped the dark elf.  
  
"For Halas! For my father! For my brothers! May my swords strike true!" shouted Siobhan, her voice rolling like a storm across the chill night. Her familiar battlecry woke the others from their moment of fear, and they all roared with her.  
  
The first four orcs had all headed straight for Siobhan, much to the surprise of the rest of the group. Grunting as they came, their weapons pounded down upon her. Yet the barbarian seemed unperturbed, as if she were returning home. She parried the first orc's blow, dodged the second, and brought her huge sword down onto the head of the third. The sound of creaking ice was heard once again, and the orc froze solid where it stood, then fell heavily to the ground, its last breath escaping it in a hiss.  
  
"That was fer you, pap," muttered the barbarian.  
  
The fourth orc struck out with its spear, planting it in Siobhan's arm. She yelped, a sound far more female and childish than any other she had made, and kicked out at the creature. Her booted foot slipped wide.  
  
Beside Siobhan, Jomen was busy. Chanting quickly, he remained concentrated on the orcs in the camp. The grass around them was growing wildly, weeds springing up from all over, trapping the orcs' feet and stinging their legs. Flames licked around another orc, and it desperately tried to swat them out - but these were magical flames, which avoided the creature's frenzied flapping and continued to burn. Only the Chief kept coming, tearing his feet from the vegetation and laughing as he approached, hefting a huge metal warhammer. Behind him, the dark elf was muttering something, and green light began to gather around him.  
  
Ganth appeared, as always, behind the attacking orcs. With a grin, he slashed his knife down onto one of them, tearing through the cloth it wore. but the blade screeched and slid off some form of metal armour hidden underneath. The dwarf cursed and stabbed with his spear as the orc turned on him and bashed him with its heavy forearm. Ganth staggered back a step, trying to regain his balance.  
  
Gueri and Eltheria chanted in unison behind the fighters. Magical lights were gathering around them, intensified by their proximity to each other. Two of the orcs in the camp found themselves suddenly surrounded by screaming, phantom death's heads, and cowered, trying desperately to run. Unable to tear their feet from the weeds growing quickly up their legs, the two creatures wailed and moaned, twisting first one way, then the other, dropping their weapons and covering their eyes.  
  
As Ganth regained his feet, the orc pressed home its attack. It landed two blows with its short sword, slicing into the dwarf's chest and leg. Ganth roared in pain as his blood began to run freely. The orc smiled an ugly smile and grunted something at the rogue. It continued to advance, forcing the dwarf back towards the camp. Ganth, however, was not such an easy target once he had regained his balance. Moving as best he could, he turned round the orc until he was facing the camp, his back now towards his friends. He slashed quickly with his knife and jabbed with his spear, cutting small openings in the orc's armour and skin, harassing it continually. He began to sing.  
  
Behind the dwarf, Siobhan was in full swing. Even with three enemies upon her, she was a formidable sight: dodging, parrying, slashing and kicking. Her powerful arms wielded their charges as if they were made of paper, but they sliced though their targets' defences with difficulty. Something was wrong. These were not the grunt orcs to which the group were accustomed.  
  
Jomen, too, had noticed that these orcs were stronger, quicker and better equipped than others they had encountered. Whipping viciously at one of the three attacking Siobhan, he was having trouble drawing blood.  
  
The two clerics continued their chants. Blue lights gathered around Siobhan and Ganth as the healing powers of the gods descended upon them, closing some of their wounds. Eltheria continued with the same chant, as Gueri switched to another and advanced into the fray, drawing upon the evil seeping from the ground to power the suffering she intended to inflict. As she finished her chant, strange blue clouds appeared around the three orcs. All three of them shuddered and moaned as Gueri transferred the pain Siobhan had suffered under their blows direct to their minds, wracking their bodies. Two of the orcs broke away and turned their attention to the cleric.  
  
"Ohhhh, them there erudites is way too skinny, and them there ogger types is way too fat," Ganth sang. Despite his cheery, bawdy song, he wasn't faring so well against his attacker. To make matters worse, the weeds that Jomen had grown in the camp were showing signs of breaking, and one of the orcs was advancing slowly towards him, growling aggressively. The creature Ganth was fighting wasn't showing any signs of weakening, either, despite his continued attacks. "Ohhh, if Jomen don't do summat, I'm a-gonna die here," he sang. The wood elf could take a hint, even if it didn't really scan in the rhythm of the song. Casting quickly, he set fire to the approaching orc, then lashed out at the one fighting the dwarf.  
  
Siobhan dropped a second orc. Turning to the two which had broken off to attack Gueri, she continued her attacks. She was beginning to weaken now, showing visible signs of tiring, as Eltheria reinvigorated her with Tunare's stamina. The barbarian's wounds were beginning to tell, too. Her armour was soaked in blood, and the metal shone red-silver. Her helm was cracked open on one side where an orc club had bludgeoned into it. She fought like a fury, slashing and hacking, kicking and shouting insults. One of the orcs swung round and faced her, but the other would not be turned.  
  
"Uh oh," said Gueri, as the orc smashed its big blue arm down on her shield. "The others."  
  
The weeds had broken, and by the look on Jomen's face, he was too exhausted to set them back again. The remaining orc warriors roared and charged.  
  
Gueri braced her shield against the orc's club. Wood cracked against wood, and the erudite grunted under the attack. Swinging her own club low, she was rewarded with the sound of a resounding crack as the creature leg shattered. Moments later, her reward was taken away: blue lights shimmered around her attacker as one of the oracles in the camp finished its spell and healed the beast.  
  
Ganth and Jomen were struggling badly. The elf had managed to turn the orc away from his badly wounded compatriate, and had used the last of his spiritual resources in healing what he could of the dwarf's wounds. Under attack, he still found time to consider his friend - if it hadn't have been for those last four orcs in the camp, and the oracles, things would have been alright. Now he was worried about the stout rogue. His wounds were deep, and many. He was staggering more than moving with his usual grace. Whipping out at the orc in front of him, Jomen was horrified to see that the beast's wounds were healing, and a magical armor was forming around it.  
  
"The oracles!" shouted Jomen.  
  
Siobhan reacted instantly. Skewering the orc in front of her with the full length of her sword, she quickly swept it aside and headed towards the camp, only to find her path blocked. The Chief had been waiting for her, and was backed up by four more warriors. Behind her, Eltheria shrieked as she was hit by the shock of a spell. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, the barbarian was reassured to see the elf's face contorted not by pain, but by anger, and the red magical lights that expressed it gathering around her hands. She noted that Gueri was faring reasonably well against her opponent. Good. She could deal with this so-called Chief.  
  
"So yous is dat berberrian wumman wot da inky done tell me bout, is yous?" the Chief grunted, in a slurred and incredibly ugly attempt at the common tongue.  
  
"Aye."  
  
"Me done killed yore famlee, me done did," the orc chortled, his hands on his hips as he laughed a guttural laugh. "Dey done died like little pixies. And den me eated dere bones."  
  
The battle seemed to stop. The orcs all paused as their Chief made this terrible confession. Jomen and Ganth gasped. Eltheria and Gueri breathed in sharply, their eyes wide. Siobhan simply looked the Chief in the eyes, an anger brewing deep inside her that she had never felt before.  
  
"Aye. Well, it's taeme for you tae meet yer maker, y'great ugly bag o'pig swill, and seein' as how you smell like a cyclops's rear end, it's going tae have tae be me what kills you."  
  
The Chief's eyes widened in anger. He let out a huge, blood-curdling roar and, raising his warhammer high, charged at the barbarian, quickly followed by the four warriors behind him. Siobhan didn't move.  
  
"Oh, 'eck," muttered Ganth. 


	4. Death Before Dishonour

4. Death Before Dishonour  
  
Blue light, red light, green light, white. Ganth's dwarven eyes were better accustomed to the underground dinginess of Kaladim's mines than to all the brightness of spell casting. He was grateful to see the blue lights fluttering around him, though, and he felt their power enter his aching, tortured chest, renewing his strength. His thoughts drifted for a moment to Eltheria: tall, beautiful, gentle Eltheria. The gods had smiled upon him the day he had encountered her on the roads of the Butcherblock Mountains. Since their meeting, he had smiled and laughed more than ever. He had even begun singing again, for the first time since his wife was killed by goblins.  
  
The dwarf's mind snapped back to the present, and to the orc in front of him. "You'll not hurt my Eltheria," he muttered, quietly, and leapt back into the fray, slashing and hacking with his blood-covered knife, jabbing low with his spear. The sudden speed and urgency of his attack caught the orc unawares, and the dwarf's renewed energy overpowered it for a moment. Waving both its arms wildly to deflect the knife, the orc did not see the spear coming up from below, and only felt it slide painfully and smoothly into its stomach. The point pierced a lung, and the orc fell heavily, choking on its own blood.  
  
Behind Ganth, Siobhan was raging. The Chief had leapt to the attack, taunted by her insults, and smashed his huge warhammer down upon the barbarian warrior. With a laugh, Siobhan shifted gracefully to one side, slapped her short sword down on the hammer and swung her longsword. For a moment, she looked the Chief right in the eyes, then her sword hit, ripping the beast's shoulder padding away. Siobhan laughed again. The Chief's warriors closed in on both sides of the tall warrior.  
  
Surrounded, Siobhan whirled like a rock dervish in the Lavastorm Mountains. The steel of her blades flashed, leaving trails of blood behind as she spun, dodging attacks, parrying incoming weapons and replying with her booted feet; but she was outnumbered, and the Chief was a formidable foe. The hammer came down again, and the barbarian tried to block it. She felt her grip loosen on her short sword as the powerful blow struck her, then the great metal weapon smashed into her chest, knocking her backwards and winding her. She could feel the rings of her armour cutting into her skin as she fought for balance, still managing to fend off the attacks of the other four beasts.  
  
Rolling to one side, the huge warrior regained her feet and, continuing her turn, slashed viciously at the Chief with her father's sword. Metal connected with metal, and the blade carved through the orc's mail shirt. Blood blossomed onto the creature's leggings as the sound of creaking ice filled the air. The blood froze. For a moment, the Chief himself froze, then, shaking like a hunting dog coming out of water, he regained control of himself. Siobhan gasped as her father's murderer withstood the power of the family heirloom.  
  
Eltheria knelt, meditating, concentrating herself on her internal energy. It was hard to remain centred, knowing her friends were in trouble, knowing there were five enemies attacking Siobhan, one more on Gueri, another on Jomen and two oracles in the camp. She pushed the thought away. Rising quickly, she began to chant again. She knew she would be unlikely to affect the Chief - he was so big! - so she aimed her powers at one of the others: red lights flickered, the sound of thunder cracked in the air and the beast was thrown backwards several feet as Tunare's wrath smashed into it. The orc turned and roared at Eltheria, then charged directly at her. It didn't bother to use its weapons, simply smashing into the slight elf's body, knocking her to the ground. It rained its fists down upon her, pounding her body, stunning her and stopping her from rising. There was little she could do.  
  
Beside the elf, Gueri was still fighting. The orc facing her kept shouting at her, but she knew better than to be taunted. She spoke the orc tongue surprisingly well, and retorted in its own language, annoying it. The beast battered away at the cleric's shield with its club, each blow forcing her backwards. Suddenly, Gueri seemed to regain her balance and riposted, sweeping the club aside and smashing her own down onto the creature's hip. The orc yelped as the club struck and flashed with light, breaking bones, then swung its own weapon down on Gueri's shoulder. The bludgeon connected, but scraped noisily off her deep red tabard, seemingly repelled by an innate power. The orc cursed.  
  
Jomen felt weak. Virtually all his spiritual force was gone, and the oracles in the camp were unhurt. Swearing feebly, he summoned the last of his power and launched magical flames at one of them. Thankfully, the magic stuck, burning the beast's skin and enraging it. Both the casters charged the wood elf, one waving a club in the air, the other pulling a knife from its belt. As they closed, the elf cracked his whip, trying to disarm one of the beasts or at least entangle it. His luck, however, was failing along with his strength - his blows slipped wide and the orcs closed in, hacking at him. Ganth leapt to his defense, attacking the one bearing a club. Suddenly, Jomen felt steel enter his body as the orc with the knife got so close he could smell its body; he felt the blade slice down his ribs and cut deeper. then everything went black.  
  
"Jomen!" screamed Gueri. Seeing her elven friend crumple, she tried to run in his direction, but the orc in front of her blocked her way. Swearing and cursing, she lashed out at the beast with her club, but it would not be turned aside.  
  
Ganth watched in horror as his friend fell to the orc's knife. Never before had one of them fallen in battle. He parried the attack of the club- wielding orc and slashed with his knife, trying to open the monster's stomach, but once again metal screeched against metal. The second oracle was hunched over Jomen and, to Ganth's dismay, raised its knife. The weapon fell, and Jomen's body seemed to relax.  
  
The dwarf roared, a terrible, deep sound that came from the pit of his stomach. With no thought for the danger, he pushed past the oracle in front of him and kicked the second, knocking it to the ground. Standing over Jomen's now inert body, he swung round and planted his spear firmly into the leg of the creature that had killed his friend. It screamed as the spear passed clean through, pinning it to the ground. Ganth raised his own knife high.  
  
"Hehehehehehehe."  
  
The terrible, high-pitched laugh came from beside the dwarf. Risking a glance, Ganth was horrified to see a tall, skeletal figure standing beside him, scythe in hand. It slashed the weapon down, nearly slicing the dwarf's arm clean off. Behind the undead monster stood the dark elf, a sickening, twisted smile on its face.  
  
"Time to meet your maker, little man," hissed the elf, raising its hands as it brought forth a magic of such evil that the air itself stank of rotting flesh. Ganth froze in place.  
  
Suddenly, the air split itself asunder in a huge, roaring explosion. Fire rained from the trees, showering the orc oracles and the dark elf with intense heat. The skeleton exploded into a thousand bony shards as a monstrous fireball hit it with unimaginable power, deafening Ganth as he hastily ducked to one side. The dark elf staggered as his robes caught fire and his hair singed.  
  
"Not so fast, Vaeksil."  
  
The gentle voice came from the woods, and was followed by a tall, pale, high elven figure in green robes. Beside the figure floated an elemental, spitting fire and scorching the grass as it passed. The dark elf cursed in its own tongue.  
  
"You!"  
  
"Aye, 'tis me, Vaeksil," the high elf said. "Begone." The dark elf spat on the ground and began casting a spell. Beside him, the two orc oracles had regained their composure and were raising weapons once again as Ganth tried to pull himself to his feet. They closed on their prey, as the dark elf faded into the shadows and disappeared, leaving only a foul smell and vague mutterings.  
  
Siobhan was failing fast. Under the constant pounding and hacking of the monsters surrounding her, and with the two clerics busy fighting, her strength was going. One of the orcs had fallen to her short sword as she tried to hold off the Chief and only risked quick, sure strokes in attack. The other two were untouched, and the Chief was showing no signs of faltering. When the explosion hit the dark elf's pet, the barbarian took an immediate decision.  
  
"For me father! For me brothers!" she shouted, and dived straight at the Chief. The beast was taken by surprise, but managed to bring his warhammer between him and the charging warrior. Siobhan's sword carved down in a high arc: a long, risky blow that connected with a resounding crash. The blade cut straight through the hammer's haft, and embedded itself in the Chief's head. There was a sound of creaking ice, and the orc's dying expression was frozen forever.  
  
Beside her, the two remaining orc warriors screamed in anger, and thrust their weapons at the barbarian. With her sword stuck in the Chief's head and completely off-balance, she could do nothing to stop their blows, and the two weapons smashed into her, slicing through her armour. Siobhan raised her eyes in agony, as she felt her life ebbing away.  
  
"I come to join you, pap." she gasped, as she fell heavily to the ground, face down.  
  
Eltheria was still pinned by the orc pounding on her shield and armour. She couldn't move its bulk, and her head was spinning from the constant battering. She cursed to herself and tried to budge the weight on her, but couldn't. Suddenly, a long-forgotten memory came back to her from her childhood and she smiled inwardly. Raising her knee sharply, she brought it up directly between the orc's legs. The creature made a sound surprisingly like the one an annoying bully had made when Eltheria had done the same thing to him in the Temple courtyard many years ago, and slumped to one side. The elf rose, and returned the orc's favour, battering it mercilessly on the ground with her flail.  
  
Beside her, Gueri was faring well. The orc facing her was having no luck at all in penetrating the armour she wore, although she did not seem to be hurting it much in return. Fighting defensively, she used her shield to good effect, turning the beast's club away repeatedly. Without warning, the orc suddenly stopped. Around it gathered dozens and dozens of ethereal swords, appearing in the air. The orc had a mere moment for a look of fear, then the swords crashed inwards upon it, ripping its body apart. Gueri looked across the bloodied, dismembered remains of the creature and saw the high elf newcomer standing smiling at her.  
  
"Rendil!" she shouted, with a huge smile.  
  
"Hello my dear," responded the high elf, with a deep bow. Behind him, the fire elemental turned one of the orc oracles to ash, as the second ran away screaming into the trees. The high elf turned quickly toward the two remaining orc warriors, who stood by Siobhan's body, surveying the now less- than-promising scene. They looked at each other for a moment, as the elf began chanting, then dropped their weapons and fled. They could not run fast enough, though, and were caught in a second rain of fire that beat down upon them, burning and scorching their skin. Both orcs fell to the ground, writhing in agony.  
  
Gueri ran across to the high elf, who hugged her close. The two looked into each others eyes as the elf spoke.  
  
"I'm sorry I was a little late. The druid, Fane, is hard to find this time of year."  
  
"It's just good to see you, my love," replied Gueri. Rendil held her close, whispering: "Aye, it's been too long."  
  
Ganth and Eltheria staggered over to the couple and bowed painfully. Eltheria immediately took hold of Ganth's nearly-severed arm and called upon Tunare, using the last of her strength to mend the wound a little. They both sat down, heavily, tears welling in their eyes.  
  
"Jomen. Siobhan." whispered Eltheria. Ganth placed his arm around her, guiding her head onto his shoulder, and she wept. Ganth, too, shed tears that day, although he would never admit it to his countrymen. Rendil and Gueri surveyed the scene.  
  
"Damnation," said Rendil, quietly. "That blasted dark elf has been working his evil ways again. I'm just glad I got word from High Priest Zaelem that he was here and up to his tricks again. Let's borrow their camp." Calling the elemental to his side, the elf continued: "Jabober here can stand guard while you rest yourselves, and we look after your friends." The elemental fizzled in agreement.  
  
The group rose slowly and made their way to the camp, carefully bringing the bodies of their fallen comrades to rest by the warmth of the orc fires. 


	5. How Many Roads?

5. How many roads?  
  
Eltheria stood by the camp fire, looking into the flames. She wasn't sure how she felt: merely hours before, she had seen Siobhan die avenging her father and brothers, and Joman fall to their enemies. She had never seen comrades meet death before, and had been deeply shocked by the experience. Even worse was the bubbling of emotions that she had carefully hidden: seeing Ganth with his arm almost severed, so close to death, she had felt an emptiness, a looming despondency at the thought of his passing that she didn't know how to deal with.  
  
She sighed a heavy, heartfelt sigh. She was a high-born, an elf of stature in Felwithe, a cleric of Tunare; Ganth was not only a dwarf, but a rogue. He was low-born and proud of it, rough, dirty, untrustworthy. funny, handsome. no. Even if she wanted to think that way of him, she was sure he would laugh in her face. He needed a real woman, a fighter, a proud, strong, bearded dwarven woman. Eltheria looked longingly at the two stone mounds at the edge of the camp for a moment - the final resting places of their loyal friends - then shook her goblet clean, the last drops of wine causing the fire to fizzle brightly, and turned back to the others.  
  
The group were eating in silence. Rendil, Gueri's huband, had brought sweet meats, fresh fish and delicacies from the distant city of Erudin, and they were enjoying a tasty meal cooked by the ever-hungry Ganth. The orc camp had held some interesting loot, too, and the team were divvying up the spoils, discussing what they had found. A few feet away, Rendil stood talking quietly with Gueri. He was taller than his wife, but seemed smaller in stature next to the cleric's athletic form. She in turn seemed weaker despite her muscle, the magician's robes somehow containing a slight body with immense power.  
  
"I tell you that inky was here for a reason, my love," Rendil said.  
  
"I agree," Gueri replied. "He was up to something. Those orcs were far too strong and well-equipped to be just a normal encampment."  
  
"Aye," replied the high elf. He looked out into the forest. "I wonder what he was doing, using these orcs. It's rare for a necromancer to deal directly with such lowly beasts, and it worries me. I shall return to Felwithe and seek counsel with the guild. Guildsman Eziek should be passing in a few days with news from Nektulos Forest that should shed a little light on matters."  
  
Ganth broke into their conversation: "It's simple. They been using these orcs aginst the elves for some time. They must be plannin' a bigger attack, and we foiled it for 'em. Nuthin' bigger than that."  
  
Rendil turned to the young rogue, considering his words. The high elf opened his mouth to speak, but Gueri placed her hand on his arm, shaking her head. The couple returned to the campfire.  
  
The party had spent the night safely by the orc fires. With Jabober, Rendil's elemental companion, on guard, they had not been threatened. The only time there was a disturbance, Rendil had risen and scared away whatever had approached the camp. A day had passed since their battle with the orcs, yet the group of friends were still sorting through the rubbish at the camp, continually turning up new, but often worthless prizes.  
  
"Hey!" shouted Ganth. He had been looking through the dark elf necromancer's tent, and now came out, carrying a small wooden box, covered with a layer of dirt from having been buried. He placed it on the ground next to his friends and pulled his knife from his belt. Jamming the blade under the lock, he heaved against the metal and eventually it gave way with a snap. The box flew open, revealing a small bag and some papers.  
  
Emptying the bag, Ganth was pleased to find several gems of worth, and shared them out equally amongst the group. He then turned his attention to the papers, but was unable to read them. Rendil stepped forward and held out his hand.  
  
"Milord Vaeksil," he read. "We charge you with this duty and trust in your success. You are aware of the price of failure: our Lord Innoruuk will deal with you personally should this mission not be, erm., accomplished successfully before the alignment." Rendil chuckled and looked at the group. "They love to put the fear of Inno into their underlings." He returned to the document. "You will go to the Lesser Faydark, on the borders of our enemy's lands. There, you will seek out the local orc Chief and you will employ him and his warriors. We will provide you with gifts for the mindless beasts that will convince them to join us. Once you have them under your power, your mission is twofold." Rendil turned the page. "Firstly, you will ensure that the. hmmm. What's that word? Ah yes... that the barbarian woman comes no further towards Neriak. It is imperative that she learn that the orcs were responsible for her family's death. Secondly, you will ensure the death of the erudite cleric. With her removed, we may move against her handfasted one with greater surety, and destroy him before he is able to complete his mission for the high elven scum in Felwithe. Go now, and perform these deeds. Do not return unless the two are dead."  
  
"Looks like someone's not going home," chuckled Ganth. Rendil nodded thoughtfully.  
  
"Aye, that it does. It also means he won't give up, and that you, my friends, are in great danger. And thirdly, it means I must away and complete my mission for the Council before those in Neriak can stop me."  
  
The friends looked at each other, worried.  
  
"We need to move against that dark elf, before he returns with more forces," said Eltheria. "You know what they're like. They don't give up once they start, and they're worse when they've had their face slapped by defeat."  
  
Rendil breathed in, deeply. "I think you may be right, young cleric. We need to get you lot packed up and on the trail of that inky before he can make his way back to Neriak."  
  
***  
  
A few days had passed. The friends had regained their strength after the battle with the orcs, and had made a short stop in the high elven city of Felwithe to buy provisions, visit the various guilds and the bank, and, in Ganth's case, get very, very drunk. They had headed west afterwards, towards the Butcherblock Mountains.  
  
Coming through the pass into the dwarven homelands, they were pleased to see clear weather and the sun shining brightly. After the Faydark, it made a huge difference to their spirits, and they sang as they walked. Ganth hailed the various vendors and guards as he passed, sharing rumours and starting a few of his own about his prowess in combat against the orcs.  
  
They soon arrived at the Butcherblock Port. Waving to the guards as they marched through, the friends walked the length of the dock, and waited for the boat, munching on some salted meat left over from the treats Rendil had brought with him. Despite her husband's parting, Gueri seemed happy. The two had been married for some time now, but had taken a vow, as part of their oaths, to not hold the other back in life. They were both free spirits, and loved travelling together, but the high elf understood his wife's need to be with people of her own circle, and she understood his duties to the Guild and the Felwithe Council.  
  
The boat drifted silently into view. As it docked, several individuals disembarked, stretching their limbs and regaining their land-legs. The friends spent a few moments exchanging news with the arrivals, catching up on goings-on and asking if anyone had seen the dark elf.  
  
"IsawVaeksiljusttheotherdayinFreeport," said a little gnome, burbling the words out as if he only had seconds to spare. Ganth huffed, but Eltheria stepped forward.  
  
"Mightyou tellus when yousaw himinthe city?" she asked, scurrying the words out almost as fast as the gnome.  
  
"Aye! Hewasn'tinthecity. Isawhimgoaroundthewalltowardsthecommonlands justasIwascomingintothecityfortheboat."  
  
Eltheria thanked the little man, and relayed the information to the group.  
  
"Ach, he's goin' around the city," reflected Ganth. "We'll have trouble catchin' up with him now, at least afore Nektulos." The others agreed. Thankfully, with the light races governing the area around Freeport, the dark elf's progress would be slow. There was still hope they would catch him.  
  
The friends stepped on board the boat and settled down for the long journey.  
  
***  
  
Swearing and cursing, Vaeksil walked close to the walls of the human city of Freeport. He still could not believe the high elf had appeared just as he could taste victory - how could the magician have known? This was a secret mission, straight from the highest levels of Neriak's political structures. Someone must have talked.  
  
Rounding a corner, Vaeksil stopped sharply. In his distracted anger, he had almost walked straight into two guards coming the other way. For a moment, the dark elf's heart leapt, then he smiled. The guards didn't stop, but walked right past the invisible necromancer.  
  
"Stupid humans," he muttered, walking quietly away.  
  
Before him stretched the hot sand of the Ro desert. Freeport was oddly placed in a sandy spot between two greener areas - a patch towards the desert itself and the longer, lush commonlands. Vaeksil often wondered why the humans had built their city on sand instead of grasslands, but had long since learnt that there was no accounting for the stupidity of these creatures. Glancing quickly around the corner of the city wall, he headed out into the despised sunlight, making for the shade of nearby trees.  
  
He covered ground slowly. The light races, of which he considered the humans the least illuminated, controlled this area with an iron fist. Despite his abilities to remain invisible and, if pushed, to distract an enemy for long enough to escape, Vaeksil travelled very carefully. The Freeport guards were renowned for their sudden and furious attacks, and their rigidity in defining who was an enemy or a friend. They were hard to please, and their Sergeant, Slate, wielded a mean blade.  
  
The commonlands were busy this time of year. Adventurers from all over Norrath came to this place to hawk their wares, to gawp at the accumulated treasures from the five continents and, since the reopening of the Nexus, the moon. The dark elf loved walking into the tunnel that led to the desert, and seeing dozens upon dozens of people: a wild array of colourful armour, of scents and perfumes, of flashing blades and jewellery. He could sit for hours just watching the world go by - almost literally - as the adventurers came together, found old friends and traded their goods and skills or worked their crafts. Even now, he saw tiny figures moving around the entrance, there in the distance, and caught the babbling of voices on the wind.  
  
Today was not a day to dally. He turned reluctantly away from the tunnel and headed across the grass towards the small pass into Nektulos. The dark elf had not moved quickly enough since leaving the Lesser Faydark, and he feared his enemies would be following. 


	6. Into The Mouth Of Evil

6. Into the mouth of evil  
  
"Bleeeuuurhhhhhhhh," moaned Ganth. Of the three friends, the dwarf was embarrassed to be the only one who couldn't stand sea travel. Despite his earthy roots, his motto for taking long journeys had always been "Open me a portal." He stood leaning over the balustrade, watching the water go by and hoping he wouldn't be sending his breakfast to the fish.  
  
The two clerics felt sorry for him. Standing apart, giving him room to breathe, they could do nothing. The boat's rocking made it impossible for them to cast any spells, ruining their concentration, and even eating some good solid dwarven bread had done nothing for the poor little rogue.  
  
"He'll be back on his feet in no time," smiled Eltheria. "You'll see."  
  
"Laaaaaaaaaaaand Hooooooooooooooooo!" the sailor atop the mainmast crowed. The boat came about, and a dozen or more gnomish marines appeared from all corners of the deck. Hopping onto the rigging, they scurried up and began to fold the sails, slowing the ship as the navigator swung the tiller and pointed her towards the looming docks. Several minutes later, after a small bump that set Ganth moaning, the boat was tied up and they were able to descend to dry land. The dwarf's relief was apparent.  
  
Sitting for a moment to recover their land-legs, the friend once again caught up with the local rumours as various travellers passed them and boarded the boat. Ganth soon felt better, and the two ladies joined him in buying supplies before entering the city.  
  
Freeport was a busy, bustling place, especially for Gueri. Coming from the seat of tranquillity, Erudin, she was unaccustomed to seeing so many people of different races walking the streets, talking and joking, arguing and trading. The heavily armed guard patrols surprised her as well, with their brightly coloured tunics and loud, stomping footsteps. She had always liked Freeport, nonetheless. Much like Qeynos, but less ordered, it was a place of intriguing little corners, of myriad new and unusual things, and of a particular little bakery that she loved to visit. She smiled a little smile as she thought of freshly baked muffins. Eltheria shot the erudite a sidelong glance.  
  
"You know we don't really have the time, Gueri," she said, "but it's obvious that we're not leaving 'til you've had your muffin. Ganth and I will come with you - we need some bread to go with this fish, anyway." Gueri cheered with delight and the friends ran off towards the bakery.  
  
"Hello, Gueri. You look like you could use some bread," said Pincia Brownloe, as the erudite introduced herself. "Unfortunately, we no longer make muffins, my dear, but I know how much you like them, so I saved you one." Gueri smiled.  
  
"She doesn't deserve it!" boomed a voice from behind the friends. Spinning around, they saw an unbelievable sight.  
  
"Siobhan! Jomen!" shouted Ganth, a mix of wonder and joy spreading across his bearded face. Eltheria squealed with pleasure, and Gueri joined her. There was a moment's pause, then all five friends embraced, their joy becoming almost tangible.  
  
"But how.?" began Eltheria.  
  
"That husband o'your'n," explained Siobhan, nodding to Gueri. "He only went and gat the High Priest hisself to come and look after us, didn't he? One minute we's dead, the next we's sittin' there eatin' batwing crunchies! Och! I dinna know how to say it. it's. it's grand tae see you all again!"  
  
"But how did you get here?" asked Ganth.  
  
"Fane, that druid friend of Rendil's," explained Jomen. "He opened a portal for us to the western commonlands, and we walked down from there. We knew you'd be at the bakery sooner or later." He winked at Gueri.  
  
"Any sign of Vaeksil on the way?" asked the erudite, bringing them back to the reality of their mission. Both Siobhan and Jomen shook their heads.  
  
"Ach, but it's grand to see you two!" splurted Ganth, and once again hugged them both close. "Now we be complete again, how's about we go inkyhuntin'?"  
  
The friends moved quickly through the city and headed out through the enormous gate. This area was always busy, with at least a dozen young adventurers hunting and older veterans stopping to hear local news or trade with the merchants. The guards hardly noticed them as they passed, keeping their heads turned towards the desert, watching for orcs and other creatures that might try to sneak past. Out on the sand, they continued directly towards a distant inn and its surrounding huts: they needed to travel by landmarks here, unfamiliar as they were with the area.  
  
"This way," said Jomen, jogging off towards an impressive, sandstone cliff face. "The forest pass is down here. Let's hope we're not too late and can catch him before he gets through." He stopped suddenly, and Siobhan, jogging just behind, ran straight into him. "We forgot to ask someone for the ability to see him if he's invisible. I mean, I can find him, he's definitely here. but if I can't see him, I can't stop him."  
  
The others looked at each other, realising their mistake. Jomen didn't think twice - he ran off towards the tunnel to the northern Ro desert, calling to them to remain where they were. His shouts could be heard from a great distance, and the group soon heard a reply from someone at the tunnel entrance who would perform the require incantations.  
  
Jomen returned several minutes later, his eyes glowing a strange colour, and led them off towards the forest pass at a quick jogging pace.  
  
"I can smell the forest," he said. "It stinks of evil. There it is, just ahead. wait! There he is! Vaeksil!"  
  
Jomen's outstretched finger pointed to nothing. Quickly reaching for his bow, the wood elf nocked an arrow and let it fly. The missile flew straight and true, suddenly stopping, seemingly in mid-air. A moment later, the dark elf appeared, pulling the arrow from his leg. He looked first at the group, then at the small pass leading to Nektulos forest. and ran.  
  
"After him!" shouted Siobhan, unsheathing her swords as she broke into a run. The friends' feet hammered on the grass, kicking up great clods of earth as they rushed towards the fleeing elf. Jomen let fly a second arrow, but it shot wide, thudding into a tree. They were closing on the wounded elf, with Siobhan and Jomen moving slightly faster than the others, but the pass through the cliff loomed closer. Cursing, Siobhan put on a burst of speed as Vaeksil rounded a corner and began to disappear into the darkness of the pass.  
  
"Damn him!" she shouted, pounding ahead of the group into the pass. Several other travellers were seated around the entrance and regarded her strangely, but she ignored them and ran on, her friends following behind her.  
  
Evil closed in around the group as they arrived, breathless, on the other side of the pass. Their eyes took a time to adjust to the sudden darkness of the forest: mere moments before they had been out in the sunlight of the commonlands, and suddenly it seemed as if night had fallen. Their skin crawled. Strange noises filled their ears, carried on the air by a foul wind that rustled through the leaves as they rotted on the trees. Ganth shuddered, as Siobhan wiped beads of sweat from her forehead. The two clerics seemed smaller in this place of darkness, and hastily called upon their gods for protection.  
  
"Now what do we do?" asked Gueri. "We're in his territory. We're the enemy."  
  
The four others understood her concern. Two minutes ago, they had been welcome visitors in a friendly city; now they were invading lightbringers, hunting a child of the land.  
  
"We need to sneak round the edge of the forest," suggested Jomen. "If their guards work like ours do, they'll stay mainly on the paths and not patrol too close to the extremities. We just have to be careful."  
  
"But we'll lose him," cried Eltheria, desperation in her voice. "He can just run straight through, now, and we are the ones who must take the long way round."  
  
"I hit him in the leg," replied Jomen. "It looked pretty deep and that sprint must have taken it out of him. Let's hope he needs to rest, or at least move slowly for a while. We can make good time, fear not. At the very worst, we can camp on the edge of the Lavastorm Mountains and maintain a watch over the entrance to that city of hell. We can wait him out."  
  
The others didn't look convinced. Siobhan spoke up.  
  
"I died once already, killin' the scum what killed me father. The gods must haeve a purpose fer me if I be here now. Och, I'm with you, Jomen. You ain't naever let us down afore." The others nodded agreement.  
  
***  
  
Vaeksil puffed and panted as he heaved his bleeding leg onto the rock at the edge of the forest. The guard pulled a bandage from his backpack and bent to wrap the wound.  
  
"Milord Vaeksil, who follows you?" he asked, tightening the bandage around the bloodied limb. "Outlanders? What business have they here?"  
  
Vaeksil hissed viciously. "Elves! I hate them! Damned lightbearer and his friends. I had them, damn his eyes! I had them!"  
  
The guard stepped back, unsheathing his sword again and fidgeting uncomfortably in place. He knew better than to question a lord of Neriak, particularly a necromancer of the standing of Vaeksil, and particularly when he was angry. He waited silently, keeping one eye on the pass. Vaeksil turned towards him, seemingly less angry, but just as agitated.  
  
"If you let them through here, I'll have your head served to me on a platter. I must away to Neriak. My Lord Tel'Drath awaits my report, and I have great doubt that he will be pleased. Call guardians to you if you need them, but do NOT let them through!" he screeched, raising a warning finger. The guard saluted smartly and took up his post, carefully concealing himself behind the large rock. Vaeksil hobbled away, down the road towards Neriak.  
  
In reality, Vaeksil dreaded returning to the city. Not only had he failed both parts of his mission, but he had done so with an incompetence of which he would not have thought himself capable. Merely killing one of the two targets would have been better, but losing both, losing the orcs and losing all the equipment it had cost Neriak to buy the orcs' service. well, that was just a nightmare. Suddenly, he stopped, a look of pure terror on his face. Fumbling quickly through his robes, he pulled out a roll of paper, and breathed a sigh of relief. Opening it, he re-read the texts to assure himself he had lost nothing.  
  
"Travel itinerary. Good. Equipment list. Good. List of informers and spies. Good. Safe houses. Good. Note of commission. note of commission. oh no. Innoruuk protect me." The look of fear returned, as Vaeksil realised he had lost one of his papers.  
  
"Damn it!" he exclaimed, clawing through his robes in a desperate search for the note. "I couldn't have left it in that box!"  
  
Breathing a sigh of relief, the dark elf drew a dark roll of paper from a hidden pocket. He smiled. He had left the correct document, the one the lightbringers were supposed to find. Carefully unrolling it, he skimmed the beautifully scribed document.  
  
"Employ the orcs. mmmm. yes. stage two of our plans are complete. the orc chief has been killed, good. stage three is underway. our spy infiltrated into their fellowship. now then. Aha!" A look of victory appeared in the evil lord's eyes as he found the paragraph he had been looking for. He read it quietly to himself, ensuring the meaning was that which he needed.  
  
"Should the foul orcs in your employ fail you, and the erudite survive, return at once to Neriak. We will provide an alternative plan, entrusted to another of our kin at this time. However, should you fail in your mission to destroy the high elven magician before he completes his mission for the Felwithe Council, you will be dismembered slowly, your entrails removed while you breathe and your still-living body hung from the gates of Neriak for at least a month, during which time you will be kept alive to endure the suffering of your failure."  
  
Vaeksil raised an eyebrow. "An imaginative punishment, I can appreciate that," he mumbled, placing the roll of paper carefully back into its hidden place. "I shall just avoid telling them about that blasted magician."  
  
Looking distinctly pleased with himself, Vaeksil hobbled slowly towards Neriak. 


	7. Stone Shock

7. Stone Shock  
  
"Oops, sorry," apologised Siobhan as she bumped into the man standing behind the big rock. She hadn't seen him as she rounded the obstruction and, with her bulk, nearly knocked him clean to the ground.  
  
"Guards! Guards! To me! Outlanders!" shouted the dark elf as he stumbled backwards. Siobhan's apology quickly dissolved into a snarl of hatred as she whisked the guard's feet from under him with a deft kick. The young elf quickly regained his composure, rolling to the side and standing up. Unfortunately, he now found himself facing five enemies, as the rest of the group lined up beside the tall barbarian warrior. The elf swallowed heavily, considering the best course of action. Knowing the price of failure, he raised his sword and charged, calling for help as he came.  
  
Nektulos guards were not renowned for their strength or endurance. Oft ridiculed in the neighbouring commonlands, they were frequently the target for raiding parties of young adventurers keen to test their steel against a worthy, yet not overly dangerous opponent. With the formidable Freeport guards patrolling the hilly grasslands just outside the forest, it was even easy to run away from a losing battle to their protection. The dark elven militia hated guard duty. They hated the post at the big rock most of all.  
  
Pulling her short sword from the guard's inert body, Siobhan wiped the blood away and looked along the road leading to Neriak. She could see no other guards coming. They had been lucky: it was well-known that the inkies always posted the least-loved individuals to the furthest places, never expecting them to come back from patrol. She pointed with her sword, indicating the edge of the forest, where the ground rose up to form the cliffs through which they had so recently passed. The others nodded and moved quietly away, in the direction she showed.  
  
Leading as always, Jomen found it difficult to pass silently through this place. Despite being a ranger of significant skill, the essence of evil that seeped from the ground, the trees and the air itself amplified his footsteps. They could not afford to move too slowly, though, and would have to risk a little noise. Behind him, the group maintained their standard marching order: Ganth followed the wood elf, providing sharp eyesight and a sturdy backup; Eltheria and Gueri followed the rogue, side by side, watching their flanks; and finally Siobhan, providing a solid, powerful rearguard capable of holding off any monsters until the others could come to her aid. Jomen smiled inwardly. He sometimes wondered what would happen if an assassin tried to sneak up on the big warrior while they walked: her armour was easily the most resistant of any of them, except perhaps Gueri, and he wouldn't like to be the one who messed up an attempted backstab on that mountain of muscle.  
  
"Hsssst," whispered Ganth, suddenly. Jomen stopped, and the others bunched up close behind the dwarf. "I think I see something," he continued. "Hard to tell, I thought I saw a movement."  
  
"Looks like some kind of obelisk or something," muttered Eltheria. "We should avoid it. We can head to those big black rocks over there." She indicated a collection of half a dozen large blackened boulders that would provide cover for them from anyone patrolling round the obelisk. The others agreed, and Jomen slipped ahead to scout. The friends watched as the young wood elf moved gracefully towards the large stone monument, stopping every now and again to listen and observe. Suddenly, they saw him freeze in place, then drop sharply to the ground, crouching low. He began to edge backwards towards the group.  
  
Siobhan's sword cleared her scabbard noisily. Gueri and Eltheria shot her an angry glance, then returned their gazes to Jomen. He was still moving backwards towards them, but a little faster now. He approached in a crouch and explained.  
  
"Skeletons," he said. "All around the obelisk. Some kind of undead memorial. Ye gods! Typical inkies, having the undead living right next to their homes!"  
  
"Let's head for those rocks, as Eltheria suggested," said Ganth, indicating the outcropping. "I'll go scout it out, while you keep an eye on those bonies." Jomen seemd ready to say something, but simply nodded agreement and returned a few yards in the direction of the obelisk. He knelt low and became almost invisible against the vegetation.  
  
With a quick glance at Eltheria, Ganth headed off towards the large black rockpile. Silently, he passed from tree to tree, sneaking past Jomen's lookout spot. The others watched as he went, always amused and impressed to see someone so stout move so easily, gracefully and without sound. The dwarf approached the rocks, keeping to the shadows cast by the trees. Suddenly, he stopped. His friends looked on in surprise, as he was not hidden, but had stopped in the open.  
  
In front of Ganth, the rocks were moving. The sound of stone grinding against stone reached their ears, as the dwarf dived for the cover of the trees, landing heavily amongst the roots of the nearest. Just a few yards away, the pile of rock grew slowly upwards, a form taking shape as it did something that could only be described as 'standing up'. Within moments, the rock pile was no longer there. In its place stood two enormous black creatures, formed from the rock itself.  
  
Ganth breathed in, quietly. He had heard tell of the stone guardians, but he hadn't expected to come face to face, or rather face to knee, with one, let alone two. He glanced hastily about: the roots of the tree he was behind did not offer much cover from prying eyes, if that was what these rock-men had. He cursed under his breath, then quickly shut his mouth again as he heard one of the guardians spin surprisingly quickly in his direction. He looked back at his friends, indicating that they should get out of sight: they quickly dropped to the ground and gained the protection of the nearest trees. Jomen remained where he was, in the open, trusting to his woodsman's abilities to remain hidden.  
  
The guardians moved, slowly. Clunking their heads together in some form of goodbye, the two separated, one heading away from the obelisk, the other shuffling a little in place. The creature lifted its hand and knocked its head once, dislodging a tuft of moss from the opposite side. It looked from side to side, apparently searching for whatever had made a noise. Ganth hunkered down behind his tree and hoped the beast did not approach.  
  
For what seemed an eternity, the guardian remained in place, listening and scanning the trees. The friends all held their breath, watching from a distance as the animated rock pile hunted for their companion. Suddenly, the creature moved. Lifting its huge, heavy feet, it began to stomp directly towards where the little rogue was hidden. Eltheria gasped: since he was pushed right up against the tree, his back to the trunk, Ganth couldn't see it coming.  
  
The great stone monster approached the tree. Ganth could hear the steps, just on the other side of his feeble hiding place. He glanced quickly from side to side, trying to decide what to do, when his eyes were caught by another sight more frightening - Eltheria was standing up, chanting and waving her arms. He shook his head frantically, his eyes wide with fear for her as he heard the sound of stony feet coming around the tree.  
  
"Hehehehehehehehe."  
  
It was the second time the rogue had heard that sound recently, and this time it frightened him more than the last, for he knew what it was. Snapping his head round, he saw the skeleton running towards him. He reached for his knife, then stopped. Phantom skulls were spinning around the undead monster as it came, howling and screaming at it: the rogue chuckled.  
  
"Smart lady," he whispered, under his breath, flashing a huge grin and a little bow to the quickly-crouching Eltheria. She grinned back.  
  
The skeleton rushed by the dwarf's hiding place, lurching wildly as it tried to escape its ghostly aggressors. The guardian reacted swiftly and decisively. With a loud crack and a scrunching noise, it grabbed the creature and mashed it to dust, sending shards of bone flying through a cloud of rotten-smelling dust. As the remaining shards of bone fell, the guardian made a grinding noise that sounded remarkably like a huff of contentment, and thudded away on patrol.  
  
Ganth breathed a sigh of relief, and his friends all collapsed to the ground, as they finally let out the air they had been holding in. The guardian stomped away quickly, and the group moved to join Ganth at his hiding place.  
  
"Thank'ee milady," said the rogue, with a heartfelt smile. Eltheria smiled back, pleased that her plan had worked. Without any further delay, the companions all moved quietly through the forest, heading towards the distant sound of running water: the river that cut across the forest would be the next problem they would have to surmount.  
  
It was odd to find running water in a place of such evil. The river flowed briskly, bending through the trees and sweeping away the rubbish dumped into it by the inhabitants of Neriak. In the distance, a wooden bridge spanned the water, but the guards patrolling there deterred the group from heading in that direction. Much as they disliked the idea, it was time to get wet.  
  
"I just hope there's nothing slimy in there," commented Jomen, looking into the water.  
  
"And you call yourself a woodsman," Gueri chuckled in response. Jomen grinned a boyish grin, and strapped his shield carefully onto his back. He dived into the water, popping up a few feet further in, treading water.  
  
"Seems fine," he said. "Come on, you lot, we need to get across as soon as possible. We have an inky to stop, and the city's not far now."  
  
The others all leapt into the river and splashed across to the opposite bank. Siobhan arrived last, weighed down by her armour. Shaking off the worst of the dank water, she took her place as rearguard and they moved off, keeping to the edge of the forest. The road to Neriak ran parallel to them as they advanced, but it was far enough away that they could not easily keep watch, and hills, trees and other vegetation frequently hid it. They kept moving, trusting that they would arrive at the city before Vaeksil, or at least be able to glean some information from the locals who hunted and worked in the area surrounding the entrance.  
  
Passing the ages-old pyramidal structure used by long-dead wizards for their teleportation, the group carefully steered clear of a second group of undead creatures standing guard. Thankfully, although aggressive, skeletons and their ilk were not renowned for their perception and were easily avoided. They were nearing the city, and found they were forced to travel slower, avoiding both guards and young adventurers out hunting in the forest.  
  
Crossing the grassy area that swarmed with small creatures and their hunters, the group ignored the amazed stares of the young dark elves learning their trades. None of them approached the outlanders, nor risked running for the guards: they simply kept their distance. As they approached the road, the friends kept a wary eye for guards, knowing they would patrol this area. This close to the city, the guards would not be of the weak sort they had met at the pass: the city's militia was like that of Freeport - ferocious when it came to defending the entry tunnel - and they would not risk passing too close to that place.  
  
The friends found a spot overlooking the road, on a small hill, and sat down to watch for Vaeksil. There was no way they could know if they had already missed him, but had little choice other than to hope. Ganth broke out their fish and bread rations, handing them round to his friends, who ate with one eye on the road.  
  
"We'll have to set up camp, I suppose," said Gueri, looking concerned at their proximity to the city.  
  
"Yes," agreed Jomen. "I'll take first watch, while you all get some rest."  
  
Their small campfire kept the friends warm, but they still trembled slightly as the innate evil of the place crept through their bones. They bedded down almost fully armoured for once, not risking the loss of time in rearming themselves should they be attacked. Jomen sat by the fire, adding sputtering wood, his bow by his side.  
  
The hours passed. Siobhan slept fitfully, turning and moaning as she dreamt of her dead father and brothers, of her recent death, of the orc Chief, laughing and transforming himself into the image of Vaeksil. She woke with a start, her warrior reactions stirring her from her slumber as she heard approaching footsteps.  
  
A young dark elf stood within the light of the fire. Siobhan rose quickly, her hand on her father's sword. She did not unsheathe it, merely fixing the approaching adolescent with an icy stare. Jomen was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"What brings outlanders to Nektulos?" asked the elf, in the common tongue.  
  
"What business be it of your'n, slave of evil?" retorted Siobhan, brusquely. The elf was silenced for a moment, then raised his hands slowly in a gesture of peace. The others all began to rise from their sleep at the sound of Siobhan's voice, and saw Jomen approaching from behind the elf.  
  
"I mean you no harm. We are all young, we are not bound by the ideals of our masters. I am Krael, a magician of the twelfth Circle." The dark elf bowed low. "I have recently left my home city and look to travel the world. I wondered if I might join you."  
  
The friends stared at each other, stunned. None of them was really a spokesperson for the group, and they all waited for each other to reply to the young magician. Finally, Jomen spoke up.  
  
"We're here to kill one of your breed," he said. "How do you feel about that?"  
  
"Sounds like fun," replied the dark elf. "I have no particular love of the people of Neriak, although they be my brothers and sisters. I'm sure you have your reasons, and I don't care what they are. My personal well-being and fortune come before any considerations for my kinfolk."  
  
Siobhan spat on the ground. The dark elf remained unperturbed.  
  
"Well, we'll be haevin' none o'that 'me-me-me' malarkey wi'this group, me lad," the warrior announced in her thunderous voice. "If you'll be lookin' to travel wi'us, you'll be needin' tae share and share alike."  
  
The elf nodded. To their surprise, he knelt before the group and swore a solemn oath upon his own life. The friends looked at each other again. Ganth raised an eyebrow, questioningly. Silently, each of the friends made their decision, and nodded. Even Siobhan nodded, reassured by the oath.  
  
"Very well, inky boy," said Ganth. "Welcome."  
  
Krael whooped with joy. He called his elemental companion over and sat down with the others, but avoided trying to make conversation as they were all obviously tired. Ganth sighed, rubbing his eyes and handed the newcomer some fresh fish and bread. With a smile, the young dark elf accepted the food.  
  
"Ho!" said Siobhan, sharply. She had spotted something, and her huge arm pointed down the hill, back towards the river. Jomen rose and peered into the distance. A moment later, he loosened his whip.  
  
"That's him. Vaeksil's on the road and coming this way. He's alone, too, except for his cursed skeletal friend." 


	8. Surprises

8. Surprises  
  
The group walked down the hill onto the road, and stood waiting. They knew Vaeksil had no choice but to enter Neriak, and consequently had no choice of route. They stood expectantly, weapons in hand, the two clerics and Jomen chanting protective incantations as the distant figure hobbled closer. Ganth disappeared to one side, much to the surprise of the newcomer magician, who prepared his own enchantments.  
  
Vaeksil stopped when he saw the group on the road. They were distant and it was dark, but all five of the outlanders were there, as far as he could see. Something was amiss, though, and he couldn't quite place what it was. He glanced around, but saw no guards, no guardians and no one close enough to call to for help.  
  
"Ah, well. It has come to this, then," he muttered, and started towards the line of enemies. As he moved closer, he realised what was wrong: the dwarf was missing. In his place stood one of the dark elf lord's own kin, a magician by the looks of him. Vaeksil felt a bitter taste in his mouth at the sight of one of his own standing by the outlanders. He called enchantments around his skeletal pet and himself, and prepared himself for the worst.  
  
Siobhan stepped forward as the necromancer approached. She raised her father's sword in salute, striking a pose of preparedness. The dark elf bowed to her, then flicked his wrist and sent the skeleton towards the barbarian. The magician's companion met it. The two exchanged blows: the skeleton significantly taller and stronger, the earth-formed elemental more solid, unmoving.  
  
Siobhan continued to advance on the necromancer. Surprisingly, he didn't move. He even had a twisted half-smile on his face as he watched the huge woman approached. As Siobhan raised her sword, Vaeksil quickly cast a spell, stepping into magical shadows.  
  
"Damn!" shouted Ganth, as both Siobhan's and his blows landed in the place where the elf had been. Beside them, the elf re-emerged and began casting a second spell, laughing at the dwarf as he did so.  
  
"Your high-elven friend won't be here to save you this time, little rogue," he sneered, launching a foul green cloud at the dwarf. Ganth felt the spell hit, sickening him to the stomach. "Ah, I feel much better now," said the dark elf, as Ganth's strength was sapped and transferred, healing the evil lord's leg a little.  
  
Vaeksil's skeletal companion had almost killed the young mage's elemental. Significantly stronger than its opponent, it hacked mercilessly with a rusty sword, chopping pieces off the elemental and reducing it to muddy rubble. Krael desperately tried to heal his pet, but with the two clerics still concentrating on calling protections to the fighters, he was alone and his power not enough. He concentrated instead on covering the elemental with a shield of fire, conserving his spiritual energies for later attacks.  
  
Eltheria and Gueri were ready for the skeleton. Calling upon the powers of their gods, they launched magical attacks, one after the other, pounding the beast with red-white light as it continued to its assault on the elemental. Their efforts, however, seemed futile, as the collection of bones dealt a final blow to Krael's companion, turning it to inanimate soil and bits of rock. It advanced upon the three casters, giggling hysterically, an eerie yellow glow in its eyes. Gueri switched tactics, hastily casting a spell to stun the beast, while Eltheria continued to pound it with deific wrath. Next to them, Krael began summoning, green lights collecting around him as the beginnings of an elemental formed in front of the magician.  
  
Siobhan and Ganth were having trouble hitting Vaeksil. For a necromancer, he fought furiously and was very nimble, sweeping under their blows, flurrying his robes to trap weapons or confuse them. He also wielded a knife with a deftness that Ganth found astonishing: both he and Siobhan had suffered dozens of minor cuts as they tried to corner the dark elf. The little dwarf tried desperately to work his way round behind him, as Siobhan swore and cursed, her flashing swords missing their mark and cutting only into cloth.  
  
Vaeksil smiled as he fought, that horrible, twisted little smile of his that enraged and disturbed the two lightbringers. He had a certain confidence, a knowledge that he was above their capabilities: he had seen the orc Chief fall to the mighty barbarian, but he did not fear her. His only concern was the rogue, who constantly kept trying to get behind him to plant that accursed dagger into his back. Summoning evil from the ground and the trees around him, Vaeksil let loose a spell. Ganth staggered beside him, clutching his hand to his heart as his head began to spin. He began to choke and splutter as his chest contracted and he heard his blood pounding in his ears.  
  
Vaeksil took advantage of the dwarf's moment of weakness. He spun on the outlander, slashing viciously with his knife as Ganth gasped for breath. The blade connected and sliced through the dwarf's armour, embedding itself deep in his flesh. A small cloud of acrid magical gas spewed from the end of the dagger as it penetrated. Ganth's eyes opened wide and he fell forward, still clutching his now-open chest.  
  
Siobhan loosed a great cry of anger as she swept her huge sword down upon the necromancer. Catching him off-balance after his attack on the dwarf, the sword carved through his robes and jammed itself between his shoulder and arm. The dark elf crumpled as the blade hit and he was forced down, screaming in pain as the barbarian twisted the sword in the wound. Siobhan grinned, an openly venomous smile of hatred, as she punished the slim lord with her father's heirloom. Slowly, teasingly, she dragged the weapon free, scraping its edge along the bones inside the necromancer's body. Vaeksil twitched, unable to defend himself without the use of his arm.  
  
Suddenly, blue lights flickered around the dark elf's wounds, cauterising the joint and magically remaking the flesh. Siobhan glanced hastily to both sides, but could see no enemy. She spun round. As she turned, she felt a sharp impact on her helmet, stunning her and making her stagger, falling to her knees. Vaeksil looked up from where he lay.  
  
"Run, my lord Vaeksil, run!" shouted Jomen, standing over Siobhan's fallen body, wielding a large rock. He raised the makeshift weapon again, and brought it down on Siobhan's helm. She groaned as her breath escaped her, and crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Vaeksil hauled himself to his feet. Quickly surveying the combat between his pet and the casters, he hobbled as quickly as he could in the direction of Neriak, with Jomen behind him, protecting his back.  
  
Behind them, the elf's skeletal pet was causing problems for the three casters. Krael has been on the point of finishing his spell when the beast had punched him, interrupting his concentration. The bony fingers hurt as they pounded into his face, and he was angry now. Beside him, the two clerics had unsheathed their weapons and were bashing the skeleton, as it remained focussed on the young mage. Without its master, the undead monster seemed somehow weaker, but would not give up.  
  
Eltheria had seen Ganth fall to the necromancer's blade, but had also seen that he was still moving. As Jomen revealed his treachery, she ran across to the dwarf and raised him slightly from the ground. He moaned, blood pouring down his tunic from the sickly, poisonous wound. She held him close, concentrating her inner strength to regain enough power to be able to heal him. Both she and Gueri had expended everything they had in attempts to destroy the skeleton, and she feared now that she had made the wrong decision.  
  
"Don't die, Ganth, don't die," she whispered as she felt her power growing. "Don't leave me. Please." The dwarf's eyes flickered open for a moment, a look of disbelief and wonder spreading across his face. Eltheria continued to meditate, her eyes closed, and did not see the dwarf's smile. Ganth coughed.  
  
"Ach. what'd he do to me, that skinny elf?" he croaked, his voice horribly weak and thin. He looked down at the wound, and poked a finger into it, wincing.  
  
"Poison, my dear," said Eltheria. Ganth's eyes once again showed a look of wonder. Could he believe what he heard? He gazed up at the beautiful elven cleric as she rocked slightly, chanting quietly and gathering her inner energies. He had hoped so long for this moment, yet he had never believed it could come, had never been sure he really wanted it. He missed his wife terribly and loved her still, but she had gone to the halls of heroes: Eltheria was here, now, and he could not imagine his life without her by his side.  
  
Placing the rogue gently back on the grass, Eltheria stood and summoned her newly regained energy, pumping clear, fresh blue light into the dwarf's body. Ganth sighed, and slowly sat up. He took a moment to shake his head, the memories of Eltheria's words already seeming like a dream, then noticed the skeleton still fighting his friends.  
  
Gueri pounded on the animated bones as hard as she could, but they resisted. This thing, this companion was a living nightmare, punching and hacking at the young mage by her side. The dark elf was not taking the punishment very well. Badly equipped, he had merely a silk robe to protect him from the onslaught, and the skeleton's rusty weapon carved through it as if it were not there. Gueri regretted having used so much power on damaging the beast - she had nothing left for the magician now - but at least her spells had weakened it a little.  
  
Krael moaned as the skeleton beat upon him, trying desperately to defend himself with his knife. It was little use: he wasn't a fighter, he was an intellectual. Suddenly, that thought came back to him, and an anger rose within him. Summoning all his powers of concentration, he began to cast a spell, ignoring the attacks of the skeleton.  
  
As the ground under the undead warrior erupted in magical flames, Ganth arrived. Burned, beaten upon, stunned, scorched and generally abused, the skeleton flailed weakly as the dwarf planted his dagger at the top of its spine and pulled downward. It was a completely unexpected attack, and tore through the magical bindings holding the creature together. With a hollow sound, the bones fell to the ground, inanimate at last. The three friends stood over the corpse, relieved.  
  
"Och. what hit me?" groaned Siobhan, stirring slowly.  
  
***  
  
As they approached the tunnel entrance to the dark elven city of Neriak, Vaeksil and Jomen paused for a moment. With a smug grin, the woodsman reached into his pack and withdrew a mask. He placed it over his face and his image shimmered: where before had been a slight, pale-skinned tree- dweller now stood a dark elf. Approaching the city, they hailed the guards, who saluted and returned to their surveillance of the approach.  
  
"Come, Jomen, we must hurry to milord Tel'Drath's chambers and report," Vaeksil commanded. Jomen nodded and followed his liege lord into the tunnel. Inside the city, Vaeksil turned to his vassal.  
  
"You still have the mask, I see," he noted.  
  
"Yes, milord," replied Jomen humbly. "I have found it better to maintain the image of a dark elf within the city, for many do not know me still and would be unhappy to see the passing of a wood elf, whether a spy in your service or not." The necromancer nodded.  
  
They made their way across the city, wending through the streets as traders hailed them, offering their wares. Ignoring the calls of the shopkeepers, they headed straight for the guildhall, standing proudly at the back of the city. 


	9. Twists And Turns

9. Twists and Turns  
  
Torches sputtered in the dark, heavily carpeted chamber. Behind his desk, Lord Tel'Drath perused a partially-rolled document, jotting notes on an adjacent parchment as he read the hand-written missive from one of his spies. He nodded occasionally, cross-checking certain details in a large, leather-bound volume perched on a bookstand.  
  
A knock at the door broke the silence, seeming almost to startle him. Voices muttered in the hallway, and his manservant entered quietly. The robe-clad butler waited patiently for his lord to look up from the documents before speaking.  
  
"Milord Vaeksil and one of his minions request audience, master," he said. Tel'Drath nodded, placing his quill beside the papers on his desk and sitting back. He raised his hands beneath his chin, balancing his head on them. The two elves, one light, one dark, entered the room, bowing deeply.  
  
"What news, Vaeksil?" asked the elven lord. Vaeksil shuffled uncomfortably under the gaze of his master. Jomen remained by the door, hoping the extra distance would improve his chances of surviving the dark elf's anger.  
  
"The erudite lives, my liege," said Vaeksil, almost whispering.  
  
The silence lasted an eternity. Vaeksil and Jomen both appeared to stop breathing as they waited for Tel'Drath's response. Their master remained unmoving, his head upon his hands, his eyes not leaving Vaeksil for a moment. Slowly, he rose and walked round the desk, stopping in front of the worried underling.  
  
"I feared as much," responded Tel'Drath, with a sigh. "Such is the outcome when an incompetent is sent on the mission." He turned away from his minions and regarded his desk. Behind him, Vaeksil began to speak, but Tel'Drath simply raised his hand and walked back to his seat. He looked at Vaeksil and Jomen, shaking his head slowly.  
  
"Months of planning," he muttered. "Weeks to infiltrate their brotherhood. The cost of the equipment for the orcs." He sighed again. "Thankfully, Vaeksil, all is not lost. The magician's appearance in the Faydark was fortuitous for our more competent envoys, allowing them to complete a part of their mission that would otherwise have been extremely difficult." He raised an eyebrow. "And you can wipe that smile off your face, minion."  
  
Vaeksil looked quickly down at the carpet. He had been lucky, and he knew it. Still, he awaited his next mission apprehensively: with the group of lightbringers outside in the forest, waiting for him, and one of their own at his side, leaving the city would be difficult, no matter what his charge. Jomen shuffled his feet anxiously, obviously considering the same problem.  
  
"Very well, Vaeksil," Tel'Drath continued, proffering a document from his desk. "Your next mission will be to act as a distraction, a small part in the final stage of our carefully-laid plans. You will leave immediately for the Faydark, where other agents and a task force will meet you. You will provide support while they stop the magician's return to the cursed elven city. We will kill two aviaks with one stone: both the erudite and her high- elven husband will be destroyed when they arrive."  
  
Looking sternly at the dark elf as he took the document, Tel'Drath added: "Do not fail me this time, Vaeksil, or I will deal with you personally."  
  
Vaeksil and Jomen bowed, hastily backing out of the chamber and into the corridor. Once outside, they both breathed sighs of relief. Vaeksil turned to the wood elf.  
  
"We must be careful, and well-prepared," he said. "Failure this time will mean our heads." Jomen simply nodded, and followed his master back to the building entrance.  
  
***  
  
"They've been in there a while," said Ganth. "What should we do?"  
  
"Nothing we can do except wait," replied Gueri. The group had been camped near the entrance to Neriak for at least a day - too long, in Siobhan's opinion. The warrior grumbled unhappily at Gueri's response. She didn't like to be this close to the city, with its regular patrols to avoid and all the upstart young adventurers testing their skills as the friends attempted to remain out of sight.  
  
"Listen, Siobhan, we have no choice. You know what these inkies are like - Vaeksil won't give up until we're all dead," the erudite added, factually. Siobhan sighed and grumbled again, then rose to speak.  
  
"Aye, that's true, Gueri. But ye're fergettin' that Vaeksil can walk right past us wi'that invisibility o'his."  
  
The others looked at the ground. She was right, of course. Since Vaeksil had entered the city, they had little chance of catching him when he left. The combination of invisibility and the proximity of the tough tunnel guards made it extremely unlikely they would be able to stop the dark elf when he left.  
  
"I suppose we should move away, then," suggested Eltheria. "We'll just have to keep our eyes and ears open for any sign of activity."  
  
The friends packed up their camp. Extinguishing the fire, they all shouldered their packs and, with a last look at the accursed city, turned away and headed back towards the commonlands. Their new acquaintance, Krael, stood a moment longer, taking in all the detail of his homeland, before joining them on the road.  
  
In the day that had passed while they waited for Vaeksil to reappear, the friends had learnt much of themselves and each other. Siobhan was furious at their former friend, the ranger, and periodically stomped away into the woods to shout and hack at the trees. Ostensibly, she was practising, but the others knew Jomen would be her first choice of target should they cross his path again.  
  
Ganth and Eltheria had maintained several difficult conversations since the last battle. They both seemed ill at ease in the other's company, and none of their companions understood why. In his own mind, Ganth was struggling with his affection for the elven cleric, her apparent declaration of her feelings for him, and the memories of his wife. For her part, Eltheria had realised what she had said, and was struggling not only with her inner feelings, but also with the effect on her family's reputation and status in Felwithe.  
  
Krael had been the only one to speak regularly. He was a friendly young man with an excellent sense of humour that counter-pointed that of Ganth perfectly, and the two had become closer already. He spoke openly about Neriak, dark elf culture, his boyhood and his desire to travel: all in all, he was exactly the opposite of what the group had expected him to be. Often smiling and laughing, he willingly went off to hunt for food and usually returned with new and different meats from the surrounding forest, that the team had never tasted. He was also an excellent cook, sharing recipes with Ganth.  
  
Gueri was unusually pensive. She had been thinking about her husband and his mission for the guild. Since their failure to stop Vaeksil, she had become increasingly concerned for Rendil's safety: both he and the dark elf had spoken of the same mission in the past, and Vaeksil was still at large. She was anxious to catch the dark elf, but equally anxious to leave this place and make contact with Rendil again.  
  
Their journey back to the friendly commonlands was uneventful, keeping as they did to the edge of the forest. They were aware of the patrols and other dangers of the forest now, and avoided them without difficulty. The group headed through the small pass, back into the daylight.  
  
"Ahhh," sighed Siobhan, "'tis good tae see the sunlight agin!"  
  
Their spirits lifted as they travelled back to Freeport: surrounded by friendly and interesting people travelling though the area, they caught up on all the local rumours and their smiles returned. Krael was the only one concerned at their proximity to the city, as they skirted the sandy area in front of the gates.  
  
"Ach, now how do we get this 'ere darkie on the boat, eh?" asked Ganth. "Ain't no way them guards is going to let 'im through, ye realise?"  
  
"Let's head to the western commonlands," suggested Eltheria. "We can keep up with all the news there, what with all the arrivals and departures at the druids' stone circle, and if we need to we can try to get someone to open a portal for us."  
  
***  
  
The following days passed quickly for the friends, as they camped in the relative security of the stone circle. Their wounds healed as they hunted on the open plains and rolling hills of the commonlands, tracking bear, snakes and spiders to eat, and killing the resident orcs whenever Siobhan's restlessness became unbearable. The events of the past week seemed distant to them now, as they sat around their small fire, singing songs with passing bards and sharing tales of high adventure with travellers of all descriptions.  
  
Krael had become an accepted part of the group. His skill at cooking had encouraged Ganth to try new and interesting recipes, and his magical talents were welcomed on the battlefield. He even seemed to enjoy the constant jibes of his new friends at his poor equipment, hastily re-sewn robes and ignorance of the world outside his home city. His humorous retorts made even the barbarian laugh heartily, and helped ease the tension of waiting for a sign of their enemy.  
  
Ganth rose from his place by the fire. He shook the last of his dinner from his bowl and replaced it in his kit-bag, stretched and announced that he was going for a short walk to digest the rather heavy bear-meat pie they had just eaten. Eltheria rose, expressing a desire to accompany him. Turning into the setting sun, the two friends sauntered away from the camp.  
  
"Ach, makes a nice change to be able to walk away from the camp and not fear what be huntin'," said Ganth, as they passed a small camp of impressive individuals. The lights of bardsong flickered around them as they walked, the drunken voices of the powerful group reaching them.  
  
"It is," said Eltheria. She had been even quieter the last two days, saying hardly anything in the presence of her dwarven friend. Away from the rest of their group, Ganth suddenly stopped and turned to the cleric.  
  
"Have I done somethin' to upset ye, milady?" he asked. Eltheria looked at her feet, a small sigh escaping her lips. The setting sun lit her face beautifully, emphasising the high cheeks and her pale, human-ages-old, yet still-young features.  
  
"No, you haven't," she replied. She turned to look Ganth in the eyes. "I've been troubled. I thought I had lost you outside Neriak, and I don't know what I'd do without you, you annoying little dorf." Ganth smiled gently. She rarely used the vulgar diminutive so oft spoken by enemies of his race, but he knew it was a term of affection.  
  
"Aye, I remember," he said. "Milady, listen. I am but a dwarf, low-born and rude. I have no station, no money and no power, but I cannot hide my feelings fer ye. Since me wife died, I lost all interest in life. You done given me that back, but I know I can't never be what you need me to be, I can't never hope fer."  
  
"Stop," said Eltheria, abruptly, then continued more gently. "Please. I know how you feel, Ganth. I always have." Ganth blushed profusely, but Eltheria smiled. "The stupid thing is that I have been more concerned with my family's reputation than with my own feelings." The dwarf's eyes opened wide, and the cleric looked towards the setting sun.  
  
"I feel the same way as you do," she said.  
  
Ganth didn't know what to do. He shuffled his feet and opened his mouth, but no words came. He searched his mind for the right thing to say, but couldn't find anything other than an immense joy. Lost, he simply turned to the setting sun and took Eltheria's hand in his own. They both smiled as they watched the last rays of light disappear behind the horizon, then embraced before turning back towards camp.  
  
As they entered the ring of light from their friends' fire, hand-in-hand, they were surprised to see Gueri, Siobhan and Krael in intense conversation with an ogre. Siobhan's warrior instincts did not let her down, and she turned as they approached.  
  
"Well, it's aboot time!" she exclaimed, seeing their joined hands. "Och, we've been waiting an age fer yous two tae realise your'n feelings and do somethin' aboot it!" She spread her arms wide and, with a huge grin rarely seen on her face, hugged them close, both at once. Gueri whooped with joy and joined them. Krael simply looked confused, but smiled broadly.  
  
Siobhan released her joyous bear-hug, and Ganth gasped for breath, blushing a deep, deep red. He mumbled something incoherent, as Eltheria grinned uncontrollably and hugged Gueri. A few moments passed before the friends turned their attention to the ogre by the fire.  
  
"This is Logrus," said Gueri. "He's a shaman from the swamps, and he may have some information of interest."  
  
The ogre rose. He towered above Ganth, reaching almost twice the dwarf's height, and was broader even than Siobhan. Wearing beautifully crafted armour bearing some form of totemic markings, he bowed deeply before the newly arrived couple.  
  
"Yus," he said, in the grating common used by the ogres. "Me bin travellin' down dere lots dis week, an' me done see'd lots of fings. Me fink me have seen dat inky wot yous is been lookin' fer."  
  
"Vaeksil?" gasped Eltheria.  
  
"Yus!" shouted the ogre. "Dat him! Scrawny lickle inky bloke wot don't like us ogres, not one lickle bit. He done tried to hurts me, but me bigger'n meaner'n him, and me done barsh hims guud. Well, til he brings dat boney, den me has to make sharp exit."  
  
"Where was he headed? Any idea?" asked Krael.  
  
"He dun headed for dat Faydedarkening place. Me overhears him say dat to dat uvver inky wot was wiv he. Hims say dat dey gonna amblybush some magickin at de dorf pass or sumtin'."  
  
"Rendil!" exclaimed Gueri, fear showing in her eyes.  
  
"Thank you, friend," said Eltheria, placing a hand on the shaman's forearm. "Your help is appreciated."  
  
"Dat hokay," smiled the ogre, the ugliness of his sharp, unruly teeth not helped by his fetid breath. "Dat inky make me sum bear pie. Me not eat dat guud since me eat me muvver." He grinned again as the friends all cringed slightly. Bowing deeply, the ogre waved goodbye and headed off into the night.  
  
"We need to find someone to open a portal, as soon as we can," said Gueri, sounding jittery. "And I need to get a message to Rendil. Now." 


	10. Ambush

10. Ambush  
  
Siobhan flopped to the grass as the druid thanked Eltheria for his payment and settled down to meditate. She hated portals, much preferring the sturdy wooden planking of a well-built ship to all the magical teleportation in Norrath. Having her body dismantled and zipped off to another continent always made her feel queasy, much like Ganth on the boats she liked. Still, they had been given no choice. Since Logrus had told them of Vaeksil's plans, Gueri had contacted Rendil and spoken for a short while with him using the telepathic telling-magic common to all Norrathians.  
  
"You KNOW he'll be waiting?" Gueri had said, out loud. Apparently, her husband had been aware of Tel'Drath's plans to attack him and his friends, but had been unable to discover the location of the intended ambush. They had discussed plans, Gueri relating the conversation to her friends, and the group had agreed to try to find a druid as soon as possible. They were to make for the Butcherblock pass, where the mountains joined the Faydark, and set up camp to await the arrival of Rendil and his companions. It had taken almost a day to find a druid willing to take them all over to the dwarven homelands, and had cost them most of Gueri's savings: she had insisted on paying for them all, explaining that Rendil would reimburse her at a later date if she needed him to.  
  
Krael looked around him in wonder. He had heard tell of the Butcherblock Mountains, but had never been outside of dark elven lands before. The majestic, stony peaks rising around him dwarfed almost everything he had seen before, and were so much more beautiful than the devastated Lavastorm peaks he had seen from a distance while growing up. Lush, green grass grew all around, and a gentle breeze blew through the valley, carrying with it the sounds and smells of a thousand creatures he knew of only from books.  
  
Hefting their packs onto their backs, the friends set off for the Faydark pass, munching some jerked bear meat as they marched. Ganth was in wonderful spirits and sang as they walked. Both he and Eltheria had been a joy to be with since their sunset walk, a weight lifted from their shoulders as they were able to express their feelings, and Ganth's song was the first the friends had heard that was not bawdy. Siobhan smirked quietly as she considered how soft Ganth was, deep down inside.  
  
Avoiding the local merchants and guards for Krael's sake, the group finally arrived near the pass and set up camp in the lee of a huge, buttress-rooted tree. The enormous trunk sheltered them not only from the wind, but from the prying eyes of any passers-by, and provided them with a fairly good view of the road to the pass. Ganth and Krael broke out their cooking equipment and set to work fixing supper.  
  
***  
  
"Here," stated Jomen, dumping his kit-bag onto the ground near some brush. "We'll be well hidden from the road during the day, and I can fix a fire in a hole for the night."  
  
Vaeksil nodded. He signalled to his other followers - a dark elf, a troll and an ogre - to settle down, and unpacked his own bedroll. The Butcherblock was one of the dark elf's least-loved areas of Norrath. Not only was this place horribly 'pretty', but it stank of life and good things. The foul, earthen odour of dwarves assaulted his nose, and the bright daylight offended his eyes. Even the grass seemed happy, somehow. He cursed the entire area, the dwarves, the elves and the vegetation, and longed for night to fall. By all accounts, the high elf Rendil and his group of do-gooders would be passing through within the next two days, and he had to be ready for them.  
  
"Go and look for the others," he ordered Jomen. The wood elf nodded and headed off towards the pass, scanning the trees on either side and sniffing the air as he went. Within a few minutes, the skilful elf had found what he was searching for - a small encampment set back from the pass on the Faydark side. As he approached, several impressive dark elves rose and unsheathed weapons, but he raised his hands in a familiar welcome, and they settled back down.  
  
"Milords, miladies, it is good to see you again." Jomen greeted each of them in turn.  
  
"Milord Kalath," he said, bowing to a tall, scarred dark elf in heavy armour. "Milord Makil," to a thinner elf wearing robes. "Milady Porim," to a darkly beautiful elf clad in plate mail. "Milord Zailkre," he continued, to a shorter elf wearing dark, shadowy armour. "Miladies Duthstra, Illilikil." He bowed to each of the armour-clad religious women in turn, and they nodded at his greetings. The entire group emanated power.  
  
"What news, underling?" asked Porim, scowling down at the wood elf.  
  
"Milord Vaeksil awaits you on the other side of the pass, milady," replied Jomen, keeping his eyes lowered. "He begs your indulgence in joining him there, for he has found an excellent ambush site."  
  
The group conversed for a few seconds in the dark speech of their kind, then hefted their weapons and packs. Not bothering to extinguish their fire, they nodded to Jomen, who led the way back through the pass to Vaeksil's camp. Introductions were made between the two groups and they settled into their hidden campsite, waiting for their prey to arrive.  
  
***  
  
"Ach, I'm sure they be over there," muttered Ganth to Siobhan, as they crouched behind the root of one of the Butcherblock's huge trees. "I see wisps of smoke a-risin'."  
  
Siobhan nodded and signalled to the rest of the group to approach. The friends had been on the lookout for their enemies since their arrival in the dwarven homelands, and had finally spotted what seemed to be a hidden camp, near the pass to the Faydark. Ganth and the barbarian had remained in an observation spot for several hours and had seen no movement to report, but the little rogue was sure Vaeksil was there.  
  
"I wonder if he's alone," pondered Gueri. Eltheria was about to reply, when Gueri's eyes went suddenly distant. Her lips moved slightly as she apparently received a magical communication. The others waited patiently until her concentration returned to the present.  
  
"Rendil's here. He and his friends have just landed at the docks. It looks like we're in for an interesting afternoon."  
  
The group returned quietly to their camp. They had waited for this moment for several days now, but they had never really considered that they would be fighting not only Vaeksil, but their long-time friend, Jomen. Silently, they prepared their weapons. Gueri and Eltheria began their incantations of protection, without looking at the others. It was Siobhan who broke the relative silence with her thundering voice:  
  
"Look out, Jomen. I'm a-comin' fer ye, and ye'd best be ready to join that orc in hell. May me father's sword strike true!" she said, hatred in her eyes, her sword raised towards the enemy camp. The others lined up beside her, glanced at each other, then headed towards Vaeksil's hiding place.  
  
They were almost within earshot of the camp when they stopped to consider their options. Smoke rose gently from the camp, and they could now see figures moving amongst the bushes - a lot of people were there, it seemed.  
  
"Hell, looks like they have company," whispered Eltheria. "We won't be able to do much against them if they're here for Rendil and his friends."  
  
The others agreed. Ganth sneaked a little further forward to have a closer look, while the others stayed where they were to work out what they should do. Within a few minutes, he came back, crouched low.  
  
"There's two groups of 'em in there," he stated. "Vaeksil's got Jomen and three others with 'im, and there's a bunch o' nasty great big inkies there, too. They're the ones who'll be concerned with Rendil and his gang, if I'm not mistaken."  
  
"We'll jest have tae sit and wait until that husband o' your'n turns up," suggested Siobhan, nodding at Gueri. "Then we ken jump in and gi'him a hand." The friends all agreed and settled quietly down to wait again.  
  
They did not have to wait very long. A matter of minutes later, they heard voices coming from the road that led to Kaladim. Looking over, they could see a group of three people walking towards the Faydark pass, one of whom they recognised immediately as Rendil. With him was his friend Powder, the dwarven cleric Jomen had run into in the lesser Faydark what seemed such a long time ago. The other was unfamiliar, but appeared to be a barbarian fighter of some sort; a tall, broad man wearing a kilt and carrying a monstrous spear. The group walked seemingly unmindful of the ambush awaiting them.  
  
The friends prepared themselves as they heard the dark elves gather their weapons and head towards the pass. Following silently and at a short distance, they remained out of sight as their enemies concentrated on the group of lightbringers on the road. As they arrived at the pass, the children of evil set up in two lines: the more powerful strike team in front, with Vaeksil's group a little behind and to one side. They began chanting their incantations of protection.  
  
Rendil stopped as he saw the dark elves lined up across the entrance to the pass. Powder and the barbarian warrior stood to either side of the magician and, as the cleric began chating, Rendil stepped forward.  
  
"Good day to you, Vaeksil. I see you have brought some more powerful scum with you this time," he shouted, with a mock-bow. "I know you not, elven lords and ladies," he continued, addressing the line of powerful individuals more respectfully. "Step out of my way and we will pass in peace."  
  
"I am Kalath, Lord of Neriak, bearer of the sacred blade, warrior of darkness," the dark elf in heavy armour said, stepping forward and bowing before his opponent. "We are sent by powers that cannot be denied. We cannot let you pass." Rendil returned his bow.  
  
"Then, if we must, we will fight," replied the magician. 


	11. Final Conflict

11. Final Conflict  
  
The sound of steel clashing against steel resounded from the huge trees of the Butcherblock. Accompanied by shouted directives, thunderous magical impacts and muttered incantations, the battle between light and dark scorched the earth, shook the very air and scared away nearby animals.  
  
Rendil's air elemental that had remained hidden until the combat began pounded mercilessly on its target, preventing the dark-armoured elf from sneaking behind her opponents. The magician himself stood behind his tall barbarian caompanion, who was engaged in melee with Lord Kalath, their weapons locking and unlocking, landing on each others' shield, drawing blood. Powder stood to one side, holding off two dark elves as he chanted loudly, his heavy magical mace screaming audibly as it smashed against their armour.  
  
A short distance from the blinding lights and deafening sounds of the battle, Vaeksil stood, just behind the two powerful clerics helping their evil friends at a distance. He observed the combat, knowing he and his team would be of little use except as a distraction. He did not mind biding his time, staying where he was, waiting until he was needed to give Neriak's better fighters a little breathing space. Glancing quickly at his companions, he noted the same reaction on their part: only the ogre was anxious to fight, as he had suspected. He glared at the huge creature, who shuffled her feet nervously as she felt the dark elf's stare.  
  
Suddenly, a scream was heard from beside Vaeksil. Turning sharply towards the source of the cry, the necromancer looked past the troll beside him to see the dark elf who had accompanied them crumple to the ground, a look of surprise and pain on his face. In his place stood Ganth, bloodied knife in hand, and behind him Siobhan, her sword raised. The barbarian howled a long, heartfelt cry of hatred and brought her father's blade down upon the troll, as her friends charged into the fray, shouting and chanting.  
  
Surprised by the flanking action, the two powerful dark-elven clerics interrupted their support of their friends, momentarily turning to face the new threat. They regarded the attacking group, measuring their power, then returned to their role with a scowl.  
  
The troll facing Siobhan staggered as her family heirloom sliced cleanly through his shoulder armour, carving into the flesh. Bashing her with his shield, he tried to regain his balance, but fell prey to her short sword's attack as it arced in and struck his thigh. Crying out in pain, the beast kicked out at the barbarian with his good leg, knocking her temporarily off- balance. He regained his composure, just in time to see an earth elemental stomp past on its way towards the rest of the evil support group.  
  
Vaeksil cursed loudly and began summoning a skeletal helper, as the ogre thundered past, growling deeply and waving a club in the air. The huge, hideous woman headed straight towards the relatively tiny Ganth, but was cut off by the arrival of Krael's elemental. The ogre's club landed with a dull thud as she hammered the pet, which seemed almost to ignore her attacks, punching with an almost mindless rhythm. Further away, Krael finished casting a spell, surrounding his elemental assistant in flickering magical flames. Jomen watched in shock as his former friends assaulted the group. The look on Siobhan's face alone scared the life out of him, and seeing Gueri and Eltheria chanting loudly as they approached from the bushes did not help. Hastily nocking an arrow, he let it fly at the clerics, but Gueri's raised shield protected them from the missile, and they continued to chant, closing in on the nearby combat. Deftly positioning Vaeksil between himself and the approaching lightbringers, the wood elf targeted a healing spell at the troll fighting Siobhan, healing some of the damage caused to his shoulder.  
  
Hidden amongst some tall bushy undergrowth, Ganth considered his options. He had managed to sneak away during their surprise attack, while Vaeksil was summoning help, and had managed to move unnoticed until he was almost behind the evil lord. He glanced at the big battle, and his attention was caught: Rendil and his friends were suffering badly at the hands of their enemies. Outnumbered, they were struggling: the dark elves had two clerics healing them as they fought, while Powder was fighting two enemies and could not be expected to concentrate on spells. The air elemental was still harassing the evil rogue - much to Ganth's amusement - and the barbarian was desperately holding back the elven warrior, fighting defensively. Rendil himself was mostly untouched at this stage, but one of Powder's opponents was backing away, probably with the intention of attacking the magician. Ganth was unsure which way to turn. His friends were in combat, and in danger, but he hated seeing people outnumbered.  
  
A moment later, his decision was made for him: a strange throbbing filled the air and, looking over towards the two dark-elven clerics, Ganth saw a tall, pale individual appearing from the ether just behind them, his hands raised. Strange lights filled the air as the casting was completed, and the dark elves screamed, their bodies twisting painfully. They both ceased their chanting and raised their hands to their eyes, blinded by the power of the spell.  
  
"High Priest Zael!" shouted Rendil, a wide, white grin spreading over his thin elven face. The newly arrived high elf raised a hand in greeting, then spread his arms wide. Beside him, two other elves appeared, both clad in brightly shining armour and wielding glowing swords. Powder burst out laughing, as protective magical lights surrounded him and his friends.  
  
Ganth headed for Vaeksil. The elf's skeletal pet had been sent off to attack the dwarf's cleric friends, but the lord himself was once again preparing to cast a spell. Jomen was off to one side, firing arrows into the fray.  
  
"I'll leave you to Siobhan," Ganth muttered under his breath, eyeing the wood elf with distaste as he continued towards the necromancer. Arriving just behind him, the little rogue stood up and brought his knife down upon the evil caster's back. Vaeksil shrieked. Engrossed in his casting, he had not heard the dwarf approach, and had been caught completely unawares. The knife cut through his skin, the muscle underneath and embedded itself under one of his shoulder-blades. Ganth began to sing, a bawdy song about dark elven maidens. Jomen spun around and, seeing his master attacked by his former friend, dropped his bow and reached for his whip.  
  
"Ohhhhhh, them dark elf maiiiiidens," sang Ganth, as he pierced Vaeksil's silken robes with his spear. "They got no underweaaaarrrrrr." The necromancer spun around, spitting blood, slashing at the rogue with his knife. "And I's so short that I can seeeeeeeee," continued Ganth. "What they got unde. ack!"  
  
His song was cut short as Jomen's whip closed around his throat. Pulling hard, the wood elf dragged Ganth forward, stumbling as the cord closed tighter. Vaeksil took advantage and slashed down with his dagger, cutting through armour and muscle, opening a bloody tract down the dwarf's leg. Banth gasped for air as he felt the dagger slice into his leg, but was grateful that this time, at least, there was no poison.  
  
Just behind Vaeksil, his monstrous companions, the troll and the ogre, were faring very badly. As hired muscle, they had expected only to be needed for a support role, and here they were faced not only with a direct attack, but two clerics who supported their enemies! Siobhan's rage had completely surprised her opponent, and the poor troll wondered what he had done to offend the gods. Faced with her two swords and a speed he had not thought possible in a barbarian, he fought defensively. Even Jomen's hastily thrown healing had helped him little, faced by such a tornado of hatred. He glanced to one side and saw his partner, the ogre, being pounded by the earth elemental, being scorched every time she hit the damnable thing, and under constant magical attack from the skinny, dark-elven magician - that traitor, fighting for lightbringers! The ogre glanced over at her mercenary companion, and the two exchanged an obvious thought. Turning tail, they ran.  
  
"Get them!" shouted Siobhan to her friends. "Jomen's mine!" Gueri and Krael took off after the huge running forms, as did the magician's pet, while Eltheria turned her attention to the continuing battles. Vaeksil's skeletal companion jerked along after its previous target, Gueri, out of range of its master's commands.  
  
The forces of evil were having a bad day. Lord Kalath suddenly found himself without the support of his two clerics, who were being savagely beaten by the newly-arrived paladins from Felwithe, and was faced not only by Rendil's barbarian friend, but also by the magician himself, who concentrated his magical energies on the evil party leader. Powder was on an equal footing with his opponent, neither of them landing many blows, but neither conceding. His second opponent, who had broken away to attack Rendil, had suddenly found herself face to face with High Priest Zael, who had rooted her to the spot and was standing off a little way, mercilessly thrashing her with deific forces of varying colours. She wailed and cursed as she tried to free her feet, but could not.  
  
Jomen dragged Ganth along the ground, as the dwarf tried to free his throat from the grip of his former friend's whip.  
  
"Hah! Stupid idiots! I had you fooled," spat Jomen. "If it hadn't have been for that damned magician, you'd all be dead now!"  
  
"But we're not," said a voice behind him. Jomen spun around, to see Siobhan's massive frame blocking his path. "Now let him go, traitor."  
  
Both Vaeksil and Jomen stopped for a moment and looked at the warrior. She stood before them, her armour covered in green troll blood, her father's sword raised high, a look of revulsion fixed on her face. Seconds passed. Vaeksil took a final look at the group and ran. Then Siobhan's sword descended in a powerful arc, towards Jomen, as a valkyrie shriek escaped the barbarian's lips. With a sound like creaking ice, her father's heirloom struck her treacherous friend. The wood elf's eyes opened wide in surprise and fear. and froze. Siobhan pushed his body with her foot and it toppled backwards, not moving, and struck the ground.  
  
"Well, now. He won't be goin' nowhere fer a wee while, eh?" chuckled Ganth, as he rose.  
  
***  
  
Gueri and Krael returned at a jog, carrying with them the spoils of their hunt. With the departure of Vaeksil, the skeletal pet had crumpled and ceased chasing them, and they had been able to catch the ogre and troll mercenaries. The latter had begged for their lives, and offered a ransom, the bag of coins jingling as Gueri had attached it to her belt.  
  
Back at the pass, they surveyed the destruction caused by the battle. Rendil's group tended their wounds, as the two paladins who had arrived with Zael guarded their dark-elf prisoners. The High Priest himself tended the wounds of their foes, showing a respect for his enemies that surprised them. He had even resurrected the dark elf who Ganth had so neatly assassinated, stating simply that "all life is holy in the eyes of the gods".  
  
Siobhan sat by the frozen body of Jomen, refusing to let the priest near it. Beside her stood Ganth and Eltheria, hand in hand. Gueri and Krael jogged over to them, as Rendil walked up from his group's makeshift camp. He held Gueri close for a moment, then released her and turned to address the friends.  
  
"I thank you, my friends," he said, bowing low and long. "Not only did you come to our aid when we were outnumbered, but you provided essential information: when and where the ambush would be. Without your help, our lives would have been at risk, but you made it possible for the Felwithe council to send us the support we needed. We owe you a debt of gratitude."  
  
Thanking each of the friends individually, Rendil stopped for a moment longer with Krael. He handed the dark elf a rolled note, bowed and returned to his group and their prisoners. The young dark elf unrolled the parchment and, reading the text, smiled.  
  
"It's a note of introduction. I shall be able to enter Felwithe without being accosted by the guards - oh, how I have longed to see the inside of that city!" he said, his smile beaming even wider.  
  
"What are we going to do with Jomen?" asked Eltheria, looking at the frozen body of their ex-team member. Siobhan stood up and grinned a malicious grin.  
  
"He'll be makin' a wonderful trophy for the family lodge in Halas," she stated. 


End file.
